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Updated: May 18, 2025
There are but three days more; but the two last are to have balls all the morning at the fine unfinished palace of the Strozzi; and the Tuesday night a masquerade after supper: they sup first, to eat gras, and not encroach upon Ash-Wednesday. What makes masquerading more agreeable here than in England, is the great deference that is showed to the disguised.
In one of these passionate protests occur the following lines, which will give some idea of his highly colored style and at the same time show us what an important place Alessandra Strozzi must have held in his affections: "When I think, as I do a thousand times a day, upon those golden tresses, which neither wisdom nor necessity but hasty folly tore, alas! from that fair head, I am enraged, my cheeks burn with anger, even tears gush forth bathing my face and bosom.
"I confess my ignorance, Strozzi; do enlighten me." "I will, sir. This time it was a flask of fine Italian oil for his night-lamp, which oil, in burning, emitted a delicate perfume. By the time the flask was emptied, the prince had gone the way of all flesh." "And all this because of Queen Katherina's science?" "And all this because of Queen Katherina's science!" echoed Strozzi.
The invisible door, for which he had been groping in vain, was once more opened, and Antonio glided noiselessly into the room. He raised his hand in token of warning. "Not a word, my lord," whispered he. "I come to save you." "To save me, traitor! You, the despicable tool of Strozzi?" "Oh, my lord! Have mercy, have mercy! Every moment is precious: listen to me, listen to me!"
Between them was the Marquis de Strozzi, in the rich habit of a Greek corsair a character which his handsome, sinister face was well fitted to represent. His gloomy black eyes were fixed upon Laura, while his hands toyed with a silken cord that hung from the pillar against which he was leaning.
It was the war of the Queen's husband, with which the Queen's people had no concern, but in which the last trophies of the Black Prince were to be forfeited. On the first January, 1558, the Duc de Guise appeared before Calais. The Marshal Strozzi had previously made an expedition, in disguise, to examine the place.
Giuseppi, the gondolier whom the countess loved he, too, poor youth. came hither- -and six days after I was sent for his corpse, and consigned it to the sullen waters of the lagoon, that covers the secrets of Strozzi's atrocious murders." "But why, then, did you not warn me?" "Because Strozzi would have murdered me, and employed another man to betray you into his hands.
"No, Barbesieur, in solitude I find my only comfort," returned Strozzi, with a weary sigh. "Here, at least, Laura is indubitably mine; here she is Marchioness de Strozzi." "She is Marchioness de Strozzi throughout the entire world. as I am ready to prove, who saw your hands joined together, and heard your reciprocated vows in Paris."
There is that well-remembered odour of spring in the air, and the flowers, as they used to be, are gathered into great sheaves and stacks, all along the rugged base of the Strozzi Palace. I wandered for an hour in the Boboli Gardens; we went there several times together. I remember all those days individually; they seem to me as yesterday.
Come- -let us leave this hopeful widow to herself." "I come," replied Strozzi, "for you must take some refreshment before you go. Until the hour of dinner I take my leave, marchioness." "Marquis," said Laura, following him to the door. Strozzi dropped Barbesieur's arm, and returned to her at once. "You have something to command?" said he, humbly. "I do not wish to dine to-day," said she.
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