It is of all his sonnets the one which rings most true, ending with its appeal for reconciliation after long estrangement.
"Your heart My home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again!"
He was not certain that he would be permitted to rejoin her, but he would not sadden Anne by his foreboding. His heart had returned to its allegiance; this was the important thing, and this she should know.
"I leave you now," said Radicofani as Brandilancia handed him the letters, "for I must make speed to wait upon the Grand Duke at Florence. Regard yourself as my guest rather than as a prisoner. I leave only a few old servants charged to make you as comfortable as the ruinous condition of this old castle of my ancestors will permit. The length of your stay is conditioned only upon the promptitude of your friends in complying with my conditions. I see that your letters are written in English. No matter, I have no desire to pry into your private affairs and shall send them by the earliest opportunity."
Brandilancia bowed ceremoniously, but sank exhausted into his chair. He was shivering in a violent chill, the first stages of Roman fever, brought on by his experiences in the subterranean aqueduct. For weeks he tossed upon his pallet alternately freezing and burning, much of the time delirious--now wandering with Anne through English meadows with "daisies pied" and "babbling of green fields"--and anon scorching the wings of his soul in the flame of Italian beauty and passion.
With the passing of the fever he eagerly demanded an interview with Radicofani but was informed that the Captain was still at Florence. He had written that no response of any kind had been received from either of the letters sent to England, though ample time had elapsed for their arrival. Brandilancia was not, however, to be set at liberty on this account, and days lengthened to weeks and weeks to months and he was still a prisoner.
The lofty situation of the castle far above the malaria of the valleys, swept by every wind of heaven, had completed his cure, and as he paced the sightly platform he found himself hungering for liberty and action. In this reflux of returning health and energy, on one exhilarating morning in early spring, when all nature seemed calling to him to escape, Brandilancia hailed with gratitude the arrival of the secretary Malespini bringing the almost despaired of tidings that his prison doors were open and he was at last free to depart.