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Updated: May 18, 2025
"What was it?" asked Strozzi, breathless with expectation. "The Canale Grande was so crowded with splendid gondolas that it was hard to say what had attracted the marchioness's attention. But after a moment or two of waiting, Mademoiselle Victorine saw that one of the gondolas was stationary just opposite to the palace." "Whose gondola? Who was in it?" cried Strozzi, imperiously.
The Marquis Strozzi was alone in his cabinet, pacing the room with clouded brow and compressed lips. Now and then he stopped before the window which opened on a balcony overlooking the Canale Grande; and the sight of the gayly-decked gondolas that shot hither and thither with their freight of youth and youthful glee, seemed to intensify his discontent, and rouse him to positive anger.
So saying, she kissed her hand, and tripped merrily away to her gondola. At the expiration of the time required, Strozzi took up the paper, and broke its seal. It contained the following: "MY DEAR BROTHER: You sold me to Count Canossa, and you have degraded me to the trade of a spy.
She afterwards seized the whole library of Marshal Strozzi on the ground that they must be regarded as 'Médici books, having been inherited at one time by a nephew of Leo X. On her death in 1589 she was found to have been possessed of about eight hundred Greek manuscripts, all of the highest rarity and value.
The telegraph office in the Via del Proconsolo is a palace commissioned by the Strozzi but never completed: hence its name, Nonfinito; next it is the superb Palazzo Quaratesi, which Brunelleschi designed, now the head-quarters of a score of firms and an Ecclesiastical School whence sounds of sacred song continually emerge.
You do not understand! "How should I be overjoyed or understand, when I do not know the lady, Max?" "Great goodness, is it possible that this unconscionable snail has lived so closely in his shell that he does not know how fortunate for him it is, that the Countess Canossa loves me! Hear me, Eugene. My Lucretia is the sister of the Marquis de Strozzi."
On this occasion Luigi del Riccio took him into his own apartments at the Casa Strozzi; and here he nursed him with such personal devotion that the old man afterwards regarded Del Riccio as the saviour of his life. We learn this from the following pathetic sonnet: Ruberto Strozzi, who was then in France, wrote anxiously inquiring after his health.
The man obeyed, and Strozzi gazed upon a sinister face, disfigured by a long, purple scar, which reached from the left temple to the chin. "Do you know," continued the marquis, "that if you were to appear unmasked in the market-place, every child in Venice would recognize you, Antonio?" "Yes, excellenza," was the humble reply. "How did you come by that scar?" sneered the patrician.
"Let your distinguished friend deny that he purchased Virginia Strozzi from her parents," I retorted; "that he has sought her ever since that he sent Palamone to murder me that he still intends some mischief. Let him deny these things, and I speak no more of them." The marchese said not a word. The count took up the tale. "Let me, in my turn, trouble you with a few denials.
Michael Angelo lost his best friend and returned to his father’s house; here he worked upon a statue of Hercules that stood in the Strozzi Palace until the siege of Florence in 1530, when Giovanni Battista della Palla bought it and sent it into France as a present to the French King. It is lost.
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