Lucrezia noticed, as they sat together laughing and talking, that her father turned more often to Giulia than to herself.

She was too astonished to feel jealousy.

And it was thus that Adriana found them.


* * *

Strangely enough Adriana did not appear to be angry, and much to Lucrezia’s relief and astonishment nothing was said about Giulia’s alarmingly bold action.

Giulia herself seemed to change subtly; she was more subdued and, when Lucrezia tried to talk to her about Roderigo, Giulia seemed less communicative than usual. Yes, she replied to Lucrezia’s insistence, she did think the Cardinal was a very fine man. The finest man she had ever seen? demanded Lucrezia, who always enjoyed hearing compliments about her family. It might well be so, admitted Giulia.

She would say no more than that and, during the whole of that day, she seemed to withdraw herself from Lucrezia so that the little girl could not help feeling uneasy.

And when on the following day, hearing the sound of horses’ hoofs, she looked out from her window, and saw the Cardinal riding away from the palace, her first impulse was to call him, but that of course would be undignified. He had come alone, which was unusual, and he had not seen her which was more unusual still. For what reason would he come to Monte Giordano if it were not to see his little daughter?

It was bewildering. Then Lucrezia thought she understood. Certainly he could not allow Giulia’s boldness of the previous day to go unpunished. Because he was gentle by nature and hated to be present when it was necessary to punish, he had not scolded Giulia but had pretended to be pleased by her company. That was entirely due to his courteous manners; but now he had come back to talk seriously to Adriana; he had come to complain and ask how such a minx as Giulia could possibly be a fit companion for his daughter.

Lucrezia’s bewilderment turned to misery. She felt sure that very soon she would be deprived of Giulia’s bright company.


* * *

Giulia was gay. She was wearing a new necklace set with emeralds and rubies.

“But it is exquisite workmanship,” cried Lucrezia. “You possessed such a treasure and did not show it to me before!”

“It is certainly exquisite,” agreed Giulia; “and I should never have kept it from you for a day, sweet Lucrezia, if I had had it to show you. I have just received it.”

“A gift! From whom?”

“That would be to tell, and to tell is somewhat unwise.”

Giulia had seemed to grow up in a few hours. Full of coquetry, she seemed more like a girl of eighteen than one of fourteen. Her laughter was high and infectious; she sang gay Italian songs about love; and she was tantalizingly secretive. There was also the mystery of the necklace.

But Giulia was too young, too excited to keep up the secrecy for long. She wanted to share confidences; she wanted to flaunt her experience before Lucrezia. Lucrezia demanded: “What has happened? Why are you so pleased? You do not care that the Cardinal complained to Madonna Adriana of your forwardness—which may well mean that you will be sent away.” Then Giulia laughed and retorted; “I shall not be sent away. And the Cardinal did not complain. I’ll tell you something, Lucrezia. I have a lover.”

“Orsino …”

“Orsino! Do you think I should ever take Orsino for a lover? Would you?”

“I … but I would never …”

“Mayhap you are over-young yet. For myself I shall be fifteen soon … and married to Orsino. Therefore what is there for me to do but take a lover?”

“Oh, have a care,” begged Lucrezia. “What if Madonna Adriana should hear you talk thus? You would be sent away.”

“I shall not be sent away. Oh no … no … no!”

Giulia laughed so much that the tears came to her eyes. Lucrezia gazed at her puzzled.


* * *

The Cardinal’s visits to Monte Giordano became very frequent and he did not always come to see Lucrezia.

Giulia would dress very carefully before his visits—not in her most modest gowns—and sometimes Lucrezia would hear Giulia’s high-pitched laughter when she was alone with the Cardinal. It was disconcerting.

But he always came to see me! Lucrezia told herself.

And then she began to understand.

Giulia had many rich presents. She was the loveliest girl in Rome, Lucrezia had heard the servants say. They had named her La Bella, and referred to her more often by that name than her own. The rich presents came from a rich lover, a lover whom Giulia was entertaining in the formal household of the Orsinis. It was some time before Lucrezia would allow herself to believe who that lover was.

Then she could keep her suspicions to herself no longer.

One night she slipped from her bed, took her candle, and went to Giulia’s bedchamber. Giulia was asleep, and the light from Lucrezia’s candle showed her the beauty of that perfect face. Giulia was indeed La Bella.

The candlelight playing on Giulia’s face awoke her and she started up, staring in alarm at Lucrezia.

“What is wrong?” she demanded.

“I have to know,” said Lucrezia. “The Cardinal is your lover, is he not?”

“Did you wake me up to tell me what everybody knows?” demanded Giulia.

“So it is true!”

Giulia laughed. “Think of it,” she said, sitting up and hugging her knees. “He is fifty-eight and I am not yet fifteen. Yet we love. Is that not miraculous? Who would have thought a man so old could make me love him?”

“With him,” said Lucrezia solemnly, “all things are possible.”

That made Giulia emit one of her secretive laughs. “It is true,” she said. “And I am happy.”

Lucrezia was silent, looking at Giulia, seeing her afresh, trying to remember what she had been like before this astonishing thing had happened to her.

Then she said slowly: “If Madonna Adriana heard of this, she would be very angry.”

Giulia laughed again, recklessly it seemed to Lucrezia.

“What you are doing should be kept secret,” persisted Lucrezia. “I know we do not like Madonna Adriana, but she is a good woman and she would never allow you to live in her house if she knew.”

Giulia stopped laughing and looked intently at Lucrezia.

“You will be cold, standing there,” she said. “Come into my bed. You are no longer a child, Lucrezia. Why, you will soon be ten. You will soon have lovers of your own. There! That is better, is it not? Now, let me tell you this. The Cardinal is my lover. He says I am the most beautiful woman in the world. Woman, you understand, Lucrezia. And soon I shall marry Orsino. But who cares for Orsino! Not I. Nor the Cardinal.”

“Madonna Adriana cares for him.”

“Yes. Indeed yes. That is why she is contented that I should please the Cardinal. My family is contented also, Lucrezia.”

“Contented! But how can that be when you are to marry Orsino?”

“Yes, yes. And it is a good match. The Farnese and the Orsini will be united, and that is good. One cannot marry a Cardinal … alas … alas!”

“If Cardinals could marry, my father would have married my mother.”

Giulia nodded. Then she went on: “You must not be sorry for Orsino. I told you his mother is contented that I am the Cardinal’s mistress. I told you that, did I not?”

“But she is a good woman. We have thought her harsh, but we must admit that she is good.”

“Lucrezia, you live in a world of childhood and it is time you left it. Adriana is glad that the Cardinal loves me. She helps me dress when he is coming, helps to make me beautiful. And what does she say when she helps me dress? She says: ‘Do not forget that you will be Orsino’s wife before long. Get the Cardinal to agree to advance Orsino. He has great influence at the Vatican. Make sure that you squeeze the greatest good from this … for yourself and Orsino.’ ”

“So she is pleased that you and my father are lovers?”

“Nothing could delight her more. She makes everything easy for us.”

“And you so soon to marry her son!”

Giulia laughed. “You see, you do not know the world. If I were to have a love affair with a groom … ah, then I should be beaten. I should be in disgrace, and he, poor fellow, would doubtless have a sword run through him one dark night, or be found in the Tiber with a stone about his neck. But my lover is a great Cardinal and when men of influence love as he loves me then all gather round to catch some of the prizes. That is life.”

“Then Adriana with all her prayers and sternness, all her righteousness, is not a good woman after all!”

“Good and bad, little Lucrezia, what are they? It is only little children who have sentimental notions such as yours. The Cardinal is happy to love me; I am happy to be his mistress. And Orsino’s family and my family are happy because of the great good I can bring to them. Orsino? He does not count, but one might say even he is happy because it means that he will not have to make love to me, which—unnatural monster that he is—I do not believe he is at all eager to do!”

Lucrezia was silent for a while, thinking more of Adriana than anyone else: Adriana solemnly on her knees before the Madonna and the lamp; Adriana, lips pursed, murmuring, “One must do this because, however unpleasant, it is one’s duty” Adriana, who made one feel that the saints were continually on the watch, recording the slightest fault to be held against one at the day of Judgment, the good woman, who was willing to allow the illicit love affair, between a man of fifty-eight and her prospective daughter-in-law of fourteen, to be conducted in her house, and moreover connived at it and encouraged it because it could bring honors to her son.