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"Cardinal Giulio Maria della Somaglia in state on an elevated bed of cloth-of-gold and black embroidered with gold, his head on a black velvet cushion embroidered with gold, dressed in his robes as when alive. He officiated, I was told, on Ash Wednesday.
"Ah Giulio," cried Beatrice, her face lighting up, changed in its whole character, "those were words that might make the demon that tempts to avarice fly from your breast in shame." The count opened his eyes in great amaze; then he glanced round the room, and said quietly, "Nobody else hears you, my dear Beatrice; talk commonsense.
Giulio, the fat, white-jacketed drawer, sat nodding in a corner, and the light from the high lamp gleamed on his smooth black hair as his head fell forward. "There is a sincere vitality in our Scotch poets," said Dalrymple, as though not satisfied with the short answer he had given.
And among many portraits that are in this work may be seen portraits from life of Giulio himself, the painter; of Count Baldassarre Castiglioni, the author of the "Cortigiano," and very much his friend; of Pontano and Marullo; and of many other men of letters and courtiers.
It may, moreover, be added, that Giovanni was himself doomed to death in the year 1526. Giulio de' Medici was left in 1521 to administer the State of Florence single-handed. He was archbishop, and he resided in the city, holding it with the grasp of an absolute ruler. Yet he felt his position insecure.
Before a house in the Rue Rossette he paused, and ascending to a flat on the third floor, rang the bell. The door was slowly opened by an elderly, rather shabbily-attired Italian. It was Yvonne's late servant at the Villa Amette, Giulio Cataldi. The old man drew back on recognizing his visitor. "Well, Cataldi!" exclaimed the well-dressed adventurer cheerily. "I'm quite a stranger am I not?
By these defensive preparations Caesar was not greatly, disconcerted; he commanded a magnificent army, composed of the finest troops of France and Italy; led by such men as Paolo and Giulio Orsini, Vitellozzo Vitelli and Paolo Baglione, not to steak of himself that is to say, by the first captains of the period.
Here, well screened from the sun, with books and work, and the lovely lake and shore to gaze upon, the hours passed so quickly that I was surprised when we were told that it was time to land on the Island of San Giulio for our noon déjeuner.
"Nothing," the old fellow declared promptly. "Since that night I've earned an honest living. I'm a waiter in a cafe in the Avenue de la Gare." "A most excellent decision," laughed the well-dressed man. "It is not everyone who can afford to be honest in these hard times. I wish I could be, but I find it impossible. Now, tell me, Giulio, what do you know about the affair at the Villa Amette?
She wished me to make my professional début as Giulio di Napoli." The name appeared to mean nothing for the Becketts, but instantly I knew who the man was, if little about him. I remembered reading of the sensation he created in London the summer that Brian and I tramped through France and Belgium. The next I heard was that he had "gone back" to Italy.
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