Madame Serpent Read Online Free PDF Page B

had been given into marriage with an old man. She told him of her own fears.
    ‘But Henry, I quickly learned that there was nothing to fear. He was an old man; and this Italian is your own age. It is not for you to be afraid of a little girl.’
    ‘No, Diane,’ he said. ‘I should not be afraid, should I? But I wish I need not marry. I have no wish to marry.’
    ‘But my dear little friend, those of high birth must marry.’
    ‘I would have wished to choose a bride then,’ he lifted his eyes to her face.
    ‘But she whom I would choose would be too far above me.’
    Diane was startled. What had happened to the boy?
    She laughed lightly. ‘Oh come, my lord, who is too exalted for the Duke of Orléans?’
    He was about to stammer something when she turned the subject quickly.
    It was well, she thought that he was about to be married. She hoped the little Italian girl would be pretty enough to charm him.
    It was with great delight that Henry heard Diane was to be of the party who would accompany him down to Marseilles where he was to meet and marry the little Medici.

CATERINA THE BRIDE
    IN THE valley lay the noblest city in all Europe. Its dot and spires that glittered in the smokeless air seemed to challenge the quiet hills which stopped only at its gates. The river gleamed silvery grey in the distance as it twisted west-wards through the valley of the Arno, through Tuscany to Pisa and to the sea. The Country was fertile, rich with its vineyards and plantations of olives.
    The town was richer; its bank and wool merchants had made it prosperous, but it possessed a greater richness than they could give, to share with the world.
    Leonardo da Vinci and Botticelli, Dante and Donatello had beautified it; and Michelangelo, still a comparatively young man, was on this summer’s day, at work within its walls. Its palaces and churches were storehouses of treasures; but in the city there was one possession which was more highly valued than art and learning. This was freedom. And the townsfolk looked to their ruling family to remember Florentine pride and Florentine independence.
    The sun burned hotly in the Via Larga, scorching the thick stone walls of the Medici Palace. The first of the renaissance palaces of Florence, it looked strong enough to withstand attack, for it was not only a palace, but a fortress; constructed to face the glare of an Italian sun, delightful in the contrast of light and shadow it presented, it was arresting, with its grim almost prison-like tower structure and the decorative designs of the upper storeys. It was one of the most impressive buildings in a city of beauty.
    In one of the upper rooms of this palace, little Caterina sat at her lessons.
    Her head ached, for her eyes were tired, but she must give no sign of this; she must never mention phys disability; she must never forget her dignity; she must, in fact, always remember that she was a member of the ruling house of Florence.
    Cardinal Passerini, who, by orders of the Pope, ruled the city under his master and at the same time supervised her learning, and her Aunt Clarissa, who
    supervised her manners, together with the Holy Father himself, who she saw less frequently, all impressed this upon her. She was important, because on her their hopes were fixed.
    ‘Do not forget, Caterina Maria Romola de’ Medici,’ Clarissa Strozzi would say― for Aunt Clarissa always used her full names to stress the need of
    preserving dignity― ‘do not forget that you are a daughter of the house of Medici. It is for you to show dignity, courage, and learning always― passion and folly never.’
    When these lessons were done, there would be more lessons to follow―
    deportment, dancing, riding, and conversation with the Cardinal, Aunt Clarissa, and perhaps Filippo Strozzi, Aunt Clarissa’s banker husband. Besides the study of languages, she must learn the history of her own family and that of the ruling houses of other countries. Aunt Clarissa insisted that