"No good in trying then."
"I am afraid you are right. I so dread the world's laugh! And I so dislike doing what is disagreeable!"
"Why on earth should you, then?" said he briskly.
"Ay, why indeed?" said she, laughing and changing the subject. Afterwards she thought, "What an answer for a priest! I was a goose to say so much to him. I will not do so again."
[CHAPTER III.]
THE DUCHESS'S STORY.
Giulia di Gonzaga, daughter of the Duke of Sabbionetta, was born somewhere about the beginning of the sixteenth century. She was one of a numerous and beautiful family, and, from her earliest infancy, the darling of all hearts. There must have been something charming about the dear little girl whose "vezzi e grazie," even from her cradle, were so extolled by dry annalists,[6] and whose riper graces were sung by Ariosto, Bernardo Tasso, Molza, Gandolfo Porrino, Claudio Tolomei, and all the noted poets of the day. A child who, from the nursery, kisses, sugar-plums, and petting could not spoil, her sweetness equally bore the test when promoted to the school-room, where, without any apparent trouble to herself, she outstripped her elder sisters, Paola, Ippolita, and Eleanora, in their studies, though they were none of them considered deficient. Enough, if not too much, praise was bestowed on the skill with which her pretty hands touched the lute and guided the embroidery needle. Children are quick to hear their own encomiums, though uttered under the breath.
[6] "Imperrochè le fu natura tanto de' suoi doni benefice, e cosi di vezzi e di grazie la ricolmo, che gli atti suoi e le sue parole, accompagnate ognora da modesta vivacità e condite di un lepor soavissimo, legavano dolcemente a lei gli animi di ciascuno."—Ireneo Affo.