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Updated: June 16, 2025
When we've once made up our minds, there's no object in prolonging the agony." Mrs. Vervain adjusted her glasses with the thumb and finger of her right hand, and peered into Ferris's face with a gay smile. "But the greatest part of the surprise is," she resumed, lowering her voice a little, "that Don Ippolito is going with us." "Ah!" cried Ferris sharply.
Tasso's cardinal, however, though the poet lost his favour, and though very little is known about him, left no such bad reputation behind him as Ippolito. It was in the service of the duke that the poet experienced his sufferings.
Meanwhile Ippolito, the natural son of Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, and therefore the rightful heir, after having been sent on various missions by Clement VII, to keep him out of the way, settled at Bologna and took to poetry.
Ferris just where she's on the point of breaking down, all the while. Has she ever spoken to you about Don Ippolito? She does think so highly of your opinion, Mr. Ferris." "She does me too much honor," said Ferris, with ghastly irony. "Oh, I don't think so," returned Mrs. Vervain.
To leave what you believe unspoken, what you will undone, what you are unknown? It is to be a priest!" Don Ippolito spoke in Italian, and he uttered these words in a voice carefully guarded from every listener but the one before his face.
It is certain that he was employed in very delicate negotiations, sometimes to the risk of his life from the perils of roads and torrents. Ippolito, who was a man of no delicacy, probably made use of him on every occasion that required address, the smallest as well as greatest, an interview with a pope one day, and a despatch to a dog-fancier the next. His great poem, however, proceeded.
Why should she first tell Don Ippolito of their going away? "Well, I wish him joy of his bargain," said Ferris aloud, and rising, shrugged his shoulders, and tried to cast off all care of a matter that did not concern him. But one does not so easily cast off a matter that does not concern one.
"Is it the custom," asked Don Ippolito, after a moment, "for the American young ladies always to address their mammas as mother?" "No; that seems to be a peculiarity of Miss Vervain's. It's a little formality that I should say served to hold Mrs. Vervain in check." "Do you mean that it repulses her?" "Not at all.
What in the world does it all mean, your giving up that grand project of yours so suddenly?" She sat down again, that she might talk more at her ease, and seemed thoroughly happy to have Don Ippolito before her again. "It finally appeared best, madama," he said quietly, after a quick, keen glance at Florida, who did not lift her veil. "Well, perhaps you're partly right.
They had returned as princes to Florence. Giovanni was Pope. Giuliano was Gonfalonier of the Church. Giulio was Cardinal and Archbishop of Florence. Lorenzo ruled the city like a sovereign. But this prosperity was no less brief than it was brilliant. A few years sufficed to sweep off all the chiefs of the great house. Giuliano died in 1516, leaving only a bastard son Ippolito.
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