He bowed and stood perfectly still where he was, for ceremony was not observed in the little rooms, and art was all-important.
When Alfonso ceased playing, Strozzi came forward and taking her hand bowed over it.
He said: “The greatest moment in my life, Duchessa.”
“Then, my friend,” sneered Alfonso, “yours must have been a singularly unexciting life.”
Strozzi smiled lightly and condescendingly. His favor with the Duke absolved him from paying much respect to his uncouth son. It was true that one day Alfonso would be Duke of Ferrara, but it was no use Strozzi’s trying to curry favor with him; he would never achieve it however much he tried. He and Alfonso were so very different in outlook that there could never be harmony between them.
“I would not call it that,” said Strozzi, still keeping his eyes on Lucrezia, “yet would I insist this is its greatest moment.”
Alfonso guffawed. “Strozzi’s a courtier, or fancies he is. Poet too. Do not take his words too seriously, Lucrezia. Well, Strozzi, what are your latest verses, eh? Ode to a red rose or a pale primrose?”
“You are pleased to mock,” said Strozzi. “And while you may mock me as much as you wish, I confess it grieves me that you should speak slightingly of poetry.”
“I am an uncouth fellow, as you know full well,” said Alfonso. He looked round the company. “So elegant, these ladies and gentlemen! These artists! What right have I to be here among them with the odor of the foundry upon me?”
“You are very welcome here,” said Lucrezia quickly. “We should be gratified if you came more often.”
He chucked her under the chin, for he took a great delight in calling attention to his crude manners in such company. “Come, wife,” he said, “let us have the truth. You’ll be glad to see me gone. Truth is more interesting to a plain man like me than your precious poetry.”
He put a hand on Strozzi’s shoulder with such force that the poet almost lost his balance and was forced to lean heavily on his crutch.
“It is not so,” began Lucrezia, but he interrupted her.
“Adieu, wife. I’ll leave you to your art. I’m off to those pastures more suited to my animal tastes and spirits. Adieu to you all.” And, laughing, he left the apartment.
There was a brief silence which Strozzi was the first to break.
“I fear my coming is the cause of his departure.”
“You must not blame yourself,” said Lucrezia. “I blame no one. He rarely comes here and, apart from the time when he plays his viol, seems to have little interest in what goes on.”
“He will never like me,” said Strozzi.
“It may be because he does not know you.”
“He knows much of me which he does not like. I am a poet for one thing. A cripple for another.”
“Surely he could not hate you for these reasons?”
“To a maker of cannons poetry seems a foolish thing. He is strong, never having known a day’s sickness in his life. He regards with horror any person who is not physically perfect. It is often so with those who have physical perfection and something less in their mental powers.”
A faint smile twisted the handsome lips, and Lucrezia was aware of a stab of pity, which was what Strozzi intended. Strozzi was not in the least sorry for himself; he would not have changed places with Alfonso. Strozzi was so mentally brilliant that he had quickly learned to turn his physical disability to advantage. His love affairs were conducted with a finesse which would have seemed incomprehensible to Alfonso d’Este, but they were as numerous and satisfactory as he wished. He had come now to charm Lucrezia and to win for himself a Cardinal’s hat.
He stayed at her side throughout the evening, and he was not long in assuring Lucrezia that in him she had found a friend who would compensate her for all the hostility she had met with at the Este court.
He could not dance. He indicated his crutch.
“I was born with a deformed foot,” he told her. “In my youth this caused me pain and discomfiture. It no longer does, because I have realized that those who would despise me for my deformity are not worthy of my friendship. I think of my deformity as a burden which for a long time I carried on my back, until I suddenly realized that through it I had developed other qualities; then it was as though the load had burst open to disclose