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Updated: May 13, 2025
It seemed natural that she should answer the bell and open the door, as it seemed unnatural that she should ever be his wife. The thought stung him, and again, he was ashamed. While these things were passing in his mind, he heard a familiar voice in the dark entry. "Signora, you will excuse me," Ercole was saying. "I asked the Professor and he told me. I beg the favour of a few words."
"Let me name myself to you. I am Ercole Fortemani," he said, with the proud air of one who announced himself an emperor. "A formidable name," said Gonzaga, in accents of surprise, "and it bears a noble sound." The great fellow turned on him in a sudden anger. "Why that astonishment?" he blazed. "I tell you my name is both noble and formidable, and you shall find me as formidable as I am noble.
With childish loquacity he extolled Duke Ercole, pronouncing him the greatest and wisest of the princes of Italy; he described Don Alfonso as a handsomer and greater man than his son Cæsar, adding that his former wife was a sister-in-law of the Emperor.
As Signor Luzio has already remarked, it is impossible to read these words without thinking that Leonardo must have been the artist employed by Lodovico on this occasion to take a sketch of his infant son. But the drawing of Ercole has vanished, and the painter's name remains unknown.
"It is my dog," Ercole answered. "It sounds like a calf," said the cabman, turning his head to listen through the storm. "It is not a calf," answered Ercole gruffly. "It is my dog. Or if you wish it to be the were-wolf, it will be the were-wolf." The cabman glanced uneasily at his companion on the box, for the were-wolf is a thing of terror to Romans.
Strolling through these quiet streets one is astonished at the long rows of beautiful palaces of the Renaissance, reminders of a teeming life now passed away. Ercole laid out a large square which is surrounded by noble palaces, and which is now known as the Piazza Ariostea, from the monument of the great poet which stands in the center.
"I have succeeded in sacrificing myself for my country," replied the shrill voice with chattering teeth; "for I know I shall never get over it. I am frozen. It is a very painful form of martyrdom." "But you can at least say one word, Signor Ercole? You can say yes or no to the question, whether you have succeeded in our object?" urged the Conte Leandro.
"He took some of his things away because he meant to spend the night in Rome," Kalmon said thoughtfully. "He means to leave to-morrow, perhaps by an early train. If we do not find him to-night, we shall not catch him in Rome at all." "Surely," said Ercole, "but Rome is very big, and it is late."
And all Ferrara sorrows for her death, and I saw many weeping. And so goes this ribald world." That year no races were held on St. George's Day, at Ferrara, and the pallium usually given to the winner was presented by Duke Ercole to the Franciscan Church.
It has been said that Signor Ercole Stadione, when he was first introduced to the reader under circumstances somewhat unfavourable to that dignity of appearance and deportment on which he specially prided himself, presented the appearance of a round mass some five feet in diameter.
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