our pilgrims again are on their way. they were passed on the road by about seven or eight persons on horseback; among them was a woman seated upon a rich side saddle, on a mule, and dressed in a travelling habit, all green, except her hat, the rich plumes of which floated on the breeze, and her face was covered with a green veil. they went by, and passed on before them without turning their heads, or speaking a word, but silently saluted them, and went forwards. the others did the same, they also bowed and said nothing.
one of the party remained behind the rest, and coming up to the pilgrims and their friends, asked if they could afford them a little water. they gave it, and inquired who the persons were that had gone on, and who was the lady in green; to which the traveller answered, "he who rides yonder, is signor alexander castrucho, a gentleman of capua, and one of the richest men, not only in capua, but of the whole kingdom of naples. the lady is his niece, the lady isabella castrucho, who was born in spain, where she has left her father buried, and in consequence of his death her uncle is bringing her to capua to be married, and i believe she is not very well pleased with this."
"that may be very likely," said the aged squire of the lady ruperta, (for she and croriano were now added to the party,) "not because she is going to be married, but because the journey is long. i hold it that no woman alive but is longing for the other half she wants,—a husband."
"i cannot tell about these philosophies," replied the traveller, "all i know is, that she looks very melancholy, and she probably knows why; and now i must say adieu, for my masters are much in advance," and so spurring on, he was shortly out of sight.
the french ladies had determined to give up going to paris, and to travel straight to rome with the pilgrims, who had decided to leave france by dauphiny, and crossing piedmont and the states of milan, visit florence, and proceed on to rome.
for many days they travelled without meeting any adventure worth relating. they entered milan, admired the grandeur of the town, its wealth, its gilding, its warlike forges, as if vulcan himself had set up there. the infinite abundance of its fruits, the size of its churches, and lastly, the sharp wits of its inhabitants. they had heard from their host that the thing best worth seeing was the academy of the entronados,[s] which boasted of some of the most eminent academicians, whose subtle reasonings and arguments had gained renown for them throughout the whole world. they heard that this was a day when an argument would be held, and that it was to be, whether love could exist without jealousy?
"it can," said periander. "to decide this it is not necessary to lose much time."
"i," said auristella, "do not know what is meant by love, although i know what it is to love well."
to which bellarmina answered, "i cannot understand this mode of talking, nor the difference between love and loving well."
"it is," said auristella, "that loving well may be without any very great or violent emotion, as one can love a faithful servant, or a statue, or a picture, which pleases one very much, and this does not cause jealousy, nor can give it; but the passion which is generally called love, and which is a violent emotion of the soul, even when it does not produce jealousy can cause such fears as go nigh to destroy life itself, and from this it seems to me that love cannot be free."
"you say well, lady," observed periander, "for when did there ever exist a lover, who, possessing the beloved one, does not tremble lest he should lose it? there is no happiness so secure that it may not be overturned;—no nail so strong as to stop the wheel of fortune;—and if it were not that we are anxious not to delay our journey, perhaps i might prove to-day in the academy, that love can exist without jealousy, but not without fear."
thus ended the conversation. they stayed in milan four days, during which they saw a great part of its grandeur, but not all, as that would have taken them four years.
from thence they went to lucca, a small town, but beautiful and free, which, under the wings of the empire and of spain, looks loftily down upon the cities of the surrounding princes, who long to possess her. here spaniards are better received and regarded than in any other place; and here our travellers met with one of the strangest adventures that had yet befallen them.
