Therefore, when the Emperor, before his departure, gave in turn a great entertainment to all the nobles of Florence, as well as of Rome, who were in the city, he sent the first invitation to Virgil, requesting him at the same time to invent for the occasion a jest of the first magnitude.
So unto this for such occasion the magician gave all his mind. And that the Emperor should really “catch the fly,” he resolved that the jest should be one at the Imperial expense—e lo scherzo voleva farlo a lui medesimo.
After long meditation he exclaimed, “Ecco, l’ ho trovato! I’ve got it! I will give him a girl made of water!”
Forthwith he wrote to the Emperor that he would not fail to be at the festival, but also begged permission to bring with him a beautiful young lady—his cousin.
The Emperor, who was very devoted to the fair sex, inferred from this directly that the jest was to be of a kind which would please all free gallants—that is to say, the being introduced to some easy and beautiful conquest—either wedded or a maid. And, delighted at the thought that the trick would take this turn, he replied to Virgil that he had carta biancha, or full permission to bring with him whomever he pleased.
Then the magician made a woman of ice and light and water, clear as the light of day he made her, and touched her thrice with his wand, and lo! she became beautiful—but such a beauty, indeed, that you would not find the like in going round the world; the sun or moon ne’er shone upon her like, for she was made of star-rays and ice and dewdrops, so that she looked like all the stars swimming in a burnished golden sky, and shining like the sun, so resplendent in her beauty that she dazzled the eyes.
When Virgilio arrived at the palace, all the guests were there before him, and they were so overwhelmed with blank amazement at the sight of the sorcerer with such a beauty, that they, in silence and awed, drew apart on either side, leaving open space through which Virgilio passed to the Emperor. And the latter was himself for a minute stupefied at the sight of such brilliancy and beauty, when, recovering himself, he gave his arm to the fair cousin, and asked her name. To which she replied: “La Donna di Diaccio” (ice).
“Donna di Fuoco! (Our Lady of Fire), [64] rather,” cried the Emperor, “since all hearts are inflamed at thy beauty. Truly, I had no idea that the great poet had such a lovely cousin!”
The dance began, and the Emperor would have no other partner than this lady, who outshone the rest as the moon the stars, and yet surpassed them even more by her exquisite grace in every movement, and by her skill as a dancer, so that one seemed to see a thousand exquisite statues or studied forms of grace succeeding to one another as she moved. Nor was she less fascinating in her language than in her beauty, and no wonder, for Virgilio had called into the form one of the wittiest and most gifted of all the fairies to aid the jest.
So the dance swept on, and the Emperor, utterly enchanted, forgot Virgilio and his promised jest, and the time, and the court, and all things save the beauty beside him. Finally he withdrew with her to a side-room, where, sending for refreshment, he sat pouring forth wine into himself and love into the ears of the lady by turns.