Light on Lucrezia - By Plaidy, Jean Page 0,75
fasten my dress.”
The dress was a mulberry velvet with gold stripes, and Angela cried out: “Oh … what would I not give for a dress like that! Twenty years of my life … my honor … my virtue …”
“You do not know what you are saying,” said Lucrezia.
“You do not know how beautiful you look. If I had a dress like that, I should look fair enough.”
Lucrezia smiled at the saucy young face. “You have pretty dresses.”
“But not so grand. Lucrezia, dearest cousin, do you remember your blue brocade gown … the one with the slashed sleeves and the golden lace? That becomes me greatly.”
“I have no doubt,” said Lucrezia.
“You designed that dress for yourself, cousin, but you might have designed it for me.”
Lucrezia laughed. “You want to wear it at the party tonight?”
Angela leaped up and threw her arms about her cousin’s neck. “May I, dearest cousin? May I?”
“Well, perhaps,” said Lucrezia.
“You are the dearest cousin in the world. I would rather die a thousand deaths than not accompany you into Ferrara.”
“You cannot contemplate dying once, let alone a thousand times. Get the blue dress, and let us see if it fits you.”
“It does. I have tried it.”
So she was helped into the dress, and paraded before them, mimicking Lucrezia in many moods: Lucrezia at her wedding, Lucrezia dancing with Ippolito, with Ferrante and with Cesare.
And so amusing was she, so full of vitality, that Lucrezia could not help laughing and felt her spirits lifted by this young girl.
Ippolito stood in a corner of the Pope’s apartments idly watching the dancers. He had a great deal about which to write home. He and his two brothers had written many letters, as requested, to their father, to Alfonso and to their sister Isabella. It was very necessary to write to Isabella; she had always considered herself the head of the family. Ippolito’s lips curled. He took a delight in telling Isabella of the charm, beauty and grace of this newcomer to their family, for overbearing Isabella was going to receive a shock when she read those letters. Isabella would be furiously jealous; she considered herself the most attractive and charming, as well as learned woman in Italy. Isabella also considered herself the most elegant. She was going to be hard put to it to compete with Lucrezia’s amazing collection of elaborate gowns. He knew that Ferrante was writing ecstatically of Lucrezia; and that Sigismondo was doing the same, although he knew how disturbing the eulogies would be to Isabella. Sigismondo wanted to please his sister but he was deeply pious and must tell the truth. Isabella knew this. That was why Sigismondo’s accounts were going to disturb her more than those of Ippolito whom she knew might be malicious, and of Ferrante who was impressionable.
A very elegant, richly-clad figure had moved toward him, so heavily masked that the face was completely hidden; but Ippolito knew that it was Cesare, for that haughty bearing, that fine elegant figure, those rich garments, could belong to no one else.
There was a bond between Ippolito and Cesare. Ippolito was a reluctant Cardinal; Cesare had been an even more reluctant one; Cesare was attracted by the Cardinal’s robes of Ippolito, which he had designed himself and which were therefore different from those of other Cardinals. They proclaimed his fastidiousness and his contempt for the role he had been called upon to assume.
“This is a gay gathering, my lord,” said Ippolito.
“The gayest we have had so far.”
“There would seem to be a hint of sadness in the laughter of His Holiness.”
“He is reminded that before long my sister will go away.”
Ippolito looked sharply at Cesare. “It is a matter of grief to you also?” Cesare did not answer; his eyes behind the mask had grown angry suddenly, and Ippolito went on: “I wish you would tell me how you escaped from the purple.”
Cesare laughed. “It took me many years to do it.”
“I doubt I ever shall.”
“You, my dear Ippolito, are not the son of a Pope.”
“Alas! My father will do nothing to help me escape the destiny into which I have been thrust.”
“My friend, let it not restrain your natural bent. When I was a member of the Sacred College I did not allow it to do so to me. I had many adventures then—amusing adventures—very similar to those which I enjoy today.”
“I understand.”
“You too have your adventures?”
“I do; and I believe I am on the brink of one at this very moment.”
Cesare looked about the