curves. She seemed some goddess of Sensuality. As I looked at her I was filled with a sudden blind desire to possess her. I stretched out my arms, and she, with a cry of passion, like an animal, surrendered herself to my embrace. I drew her to me and kissed her beautiful mouth sensual and moist, her lips deep red and heavy....
We sat side by side looking at the fountain, breathing in the scented air.
'When can I see you?' I whispered.
'To-morrow.... After midnight. Come into the little street behind my house, and a door will be opened to you.'
'Claudia!'
'Good-bye. You must not come back with me now, we have been away so long, people would notice us. Wait here a while after me, and then there will be no fear. Good-bye.'
She left me, and I stretched myself on the marble seat, looking at the little rings which the drops made as they fell on the water. My love for Giulia was indeed finished now—dead, buried, and a stone Venus erected over it as only sign of its existence. I tried to think of a suitable inscription.... Time could kill the most obstinate love, and a beautiful woman, with the breezes of spring to help her, could carry away even the remembrance. I felt that my life was now complete. I had all pleasures imaginable at my beck and call: good wines to drink, good foods to eat, nice clothes; games, sports and pastimes; and, last of all, the greatest gift the gods can make, a beautiful woman to my youth and strength. I had arrived at the summit of wisdom, the point aimed at by the wise man, to take the day as it comes, seizing the pleasures, avoiding the disagreeable, enjoying the present, and giving no thought to the past or future. That, I said to myself, is the highest wisdom—never to think; for the way of happiness is to live in one's senses as the beasts, and like the ox, chewing the cud, use the mind only to consider one's superiority to the rest of mankind.
I laughed a little as I thought of my tears and cries when Giulia left me. It was not a matter worth troubling about; all I should have said to myself was that I was a fool not to abandon her before she abandoned me. Poor Giulia! I quite frightened her in the vehemence of my rage.
The following evening I would not let Matteo go to bed.
'You must keep me company,' I said, 'I am going out at one.'
'Very well,' he said, 'if you will tell me where you're going.'
'Ah, no, that is a secret; but I am willing to drink her health with you.'
'Without a name?'
'Yes!'
'To the nameless one, then; and good luck!'
Then, after a little conversation, he said,—
'I am glad you have suffered no more from Giulia dall' Aste. I was afraid—'
'Oh, these things pass off. I took your advice, and found the best way to console myself was to fall in love with somebody else.'
There was a little excitement in going to this mysterious meeting. I wondered whether it was a trap arranged by the amiable Ercole to get me in his power and rid himself of my unpleasant person. But faint heart never won fair lady; and even if he set on me with two or three others, I should be able to give a reasonable account of myself.
But there had been nothing to fear. On my way home, as the day was breaking, I smiled to myself at the matter-of-fact way in which a woman had opened the little door, and shown me into the room Claudia had told me of. She was evidently well used to her business; she did not even take the trouble to look into my face to see who was the newcomer. I wondered how many well-cloaked gallants she had let in by the same door; I did not care if they were half a hundred. I did not suppose the beautiful Claudia was more virtuous than myself. Suddenly it occurred to me that I had revenged myself on Ercole Piacentini at last; and the quaint thought, coming unexpectedly, made me stop dead and burst into a shout of laughter. The thought of that hang-dog visage, and the beautiful ornaments I had given him, was enough to make a dead man merry. Oh, it was a fairer revenge than any I could have dreamed of!
But, besides that, I was filled with a great sense of pleasure because I was at last free. I felt that if some slight chain still bound me to Giulia now, even that was broken and I had recovered my liberty. There was no love this time. There was a great desire for the magnificent sensual creature, with the lips deep red and heavy; but it left my mind free. I was now again a complete man; and this time I had no Nemesis to fear.
XVIII
And so my life went on for a little while, filled with pleasure and amusement. I was contented with my lot, and had no wish for change. The time went by, and we reached the first week in April. Girolamo had organised a great ball to celebrate the completion of his Palace. He had started living in it as soon as there were walls and roof, but he had spent years on the decorations, taking into his service the best artists he could find in Italy; and now at last everything was finished. The Orsi had been invited with peculiar cordiality, and on the night we betook ourselves to the Palace.
We walked up the stately staircase, a masterpiece of architecture, and found ourselves in the enormous hall which Girolamo had designed especially for gorgeous functions. It was ablaze with light. At the further end, on a low stage, led up to by three broad steps, under a daïs, on high-backed, golden chairs, sat Girolamo and Caterina Sforza. Behind them, in a semicircle, and on the steps at each side, were the ladies of Caterina's suite, and a number of gentlemen; at the back, standing like statues, a row of men-at-arms.
'It is almost regal!' said Checco, pursing up his lips.
'It is not so poor a thing to be the Lord of Forli,' answered Matteo. Fuel to the fire!
We approached, and Girolamo, as he saw us, rose and came down the steps.
'Hail, my Checco!' he said, taking both his hands. 'Till you had come the assembly was not complete.'
Matteo and I went to the Countess. She had surpassed herself this night. Her dress was of cloth of silver, shimmering and sparkling. In her hair were diamonds shining like fireflies in the night; her arms, her neck, her fingers glittered with costly gems. I had never seen her look so beautiful, nor so magnificent. Let them say what they liked, Checco and Matteo and the rest of them, but she was born to be a queen. How strange that this offspring of the rough Condottiere and the lewd woman should have a majesty such as one imagines of a mighty empress descended from countless kings.
She took the trouble to be particularly gracious to us. Me she complimented on some verses she had seen, and was very flattering in reference to a pastoral play which I had arranged. She could not congratulate my good Matteo on any intellectual achievements, but the fame of his amours gave her a subject on which she could playfully reproach him. She demanded details, and I left her listening intently to some history which Matteo was whispering in her ear; and I knew he was not particular in what he said.
I felt in peculiarly high spirits, and I looked about for someone on whom to vent my good humour. I caught sight of Giulia. I had seen her once or twice since my return to Forli, but had never spoken to her. Now I felt sure of myself; I knew I did not care two straws for her, but I thought it would please me to have a little revenge. I looked at her a moment. I made up my mind; I went to her and bowed most ceremoniously.
'Donna Giulia, behold the moth!' I had used the simile before, but not to her, so
