'The Count!'
The group broke up, and Checco advanced to the further end of the hall,
with Ercole Piacentini and several other gentlemen. Matteo and I
lingered where we were. There was a rustle, and the Count and Countess
appeared attended by their suite.
First of all my eyes were attracted to Caterina; she was wonderfully
beautiful. A tall, well-made woman, holding herself proudly, her head
poised on the neck like a statue.
'One would think she was a king's daughter!' said Matteo, looking at her
with astonishment.
'It is almost Francesco's face,' I said.
We both had an immense admiration for Francesco Sforza, the King of
Condottieri, who had raised himself from a soldier of fortune to the
proudest duchy in the world. And Caterina, his natural daughter, had the
same clear, strong features, the strong piercing eyes, but instead of
the Sforza's pock-marked skin, she had a complexion of rare delicacy and
softness; and afterwards she proved that she had inherited her father's
courage as well as his appearance.... She was dressed in a gorgeous robe
of silver cloth, glittering and shimmering as she walked, and her hair
was done in her favourite manner, intertwined with gold and silver
threads; but the wonderful chestnut outshone the brilliant metals,
seeming to lend them beauty rather than to borrow it. I heard her speak,
and her voice was low and full like a man's.
Matteo and I stood looking at her for a minute; then we both broke out
'_Per Bacco_, she is beautiful!'
I began thinking of the fairy stories I had heard of Caterina at Rome,
where she had enchanted everyone by her loveliness; and Sixtus had
squandered the riches of the Church to satisfy her whims and fancies:
banquets, balls, pageants and gorgeous ceremonies; the ancient city had
run red with wine and mad with delight of her beauty.