Giulia was recruiting her health, meantime, at Vittoria's charming island-home of Ischia,

"Where nothing met the eye but sights of bliss."

—where a graceful simplicity, indeed, reigned, but under the regulation of the purest taste,—where duties, softened into pleasures, filled up every hour; and where leisure, never degenerating into laziness, was alternately dedicated to poetry, music, and painting, to the enjoyment of the most exquisite beauties of nature, to the cultivation of the mind, and to offices of charity and devotion. Among the poets and eminent men who here "invoked the muses and improved their vein," and who helped to make this remote rock famous, were Musefilo, Filocalo, Giovio, Bernardo Tasso, and many others. Bernardo Tasso thus sang the praises of this charmed islet—

Nor did younger and gayer poets want younger and gayer beauties to inspire them than the two noble widows; for Vittoria's household comprised six or eight nobly-born girls who were being trained under her eye, and whom her conscientiousness prevented from turning over to the sole superintendence of the Mother of the maids.

"You might take more interest than you do, Giulia," said she, "in the education of your damsels. It would do them good, and you, too."

"Ah, nothing could be more tiresome to me," said Giulia. "I am most happy to leave them to Donna Caterina!"

"I doubt, however," said Vittoria, "whether we have even the right to keep fellow-creatures about us, of like affections and passions with ourselves, without providing some legitimate outlet for them, or supplying them with sufficient motives for their restraint."

"My girls seldom go into passions," said Giulia; "and I should think it impertinent to inquire into their affections."

"Why now, you incorrigible Giulia, did not you tell me of your fits of suppressed laughter while you were overhearing (actually eaves-dropping) that love dialogue between Tebaldo and Isaura? and of your laughing at her to her face, afterwards, in the presence of the other girls?"

"I gave her a pearl necklace," said the Duchess.

"Not till she married, months afterwards."

"Well, I own I let myself down on that occasion."

"As to letting yourself down, it is your keeping yourself up that I complain of—"

"O, what a beautiful butterfly!—"

"My dear Giulia, don't run after it and put yourself in a fever. You are not quite a child now!"

"No, but I was a child once; and when I was a child-Duchess of thirteen, I thought that if I did not keep my maids at a distance, they would not respect me. And my mother's word had always been, 'Never associate, child, with servants.'"

"Servants and slaves, that may apply to very well," said Vittoria, who had not surmounted class-prejudices, "but your maids-of-honour are well-born, and though for a time they occupy subordinate positions, eventually they will marry respectably, it is to be hoped."

"And that hope is enough to enliven them, I suppose," said Giulia. "My dear Duke said to me, very soon after our marriage: 'Pargoletta!'—you know he loved to call me 'pargoletta,' or 'animetta,' or 'dolce alma mia,'—he said, 'Pargoletta, don't have much to say to your maids; they are light and frivolous, and will do you no good.' And I loved to obey him; and I love to obey him still, for he was a wise man."

"They might do you no good, but you might do them great good now," said Vittoria.

"O, my dear, that set have long married off, and had their portions—so many ducats, a bed, bedding, and ewer and basin."

"The new set, then—"

"Here's a strawberry, I declare," said Giulia, diving into the leaves on the bank upon which they were sitting. "Do have it!"

"No, thank you. The—"

"I could no more preach and pray with my maids as you do, Vittoria, than I could fly!"

"Why not?"

"I should die of shame."

"Nonsense," said the Marchioness, laughing.

"I really should. It would be so ridiculous."

"Quite otherwise, I think, if you undertook it in the right spirit."

"But I never could. It is not in me. They would all begin to laugh—"

"They must be under very poor control, then," said Vittoria.

"Besides, it would be so uncalled for—it would take their thoughts off their proper work."

"What is their proper work?"

"To do vast quantities of embroidery and fine needlework."

"Well, I think your proper work is to care for their souls."

"That's Fra Silvano's office."

"Does he fulfil it?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid. He chatters and laughs with them too much."

"I should like to see him chatter and laugh with my maids," said Vittoria, kindling. "He should not do so twice."

"Ah," said Giulia, after a pause—"I wish I were as good as you, Vittoria—"

"My dear soul, I am not good."

"You are a great deal better than I am. Such as I am, I am and ever shall be."

"Hush, we can none of us say that!"

"At any rate, there is no good thing in me, to impart to others. And the girls do very well as they are—they stick to their needles."

"What do they think of the while?"

"Of their needles, I suppose."

"If they do, they are better than I am," said Vittoria, almost with a groan. "Oh, Giulia, don't believe it!"

"Well, I suppose nonsense of some sort may pass through their heads," said Giulia, rather uneasily. "How am I to keep it out?"

"By putting something better in. Not merely by preaching and praying, but by supplying proper, innocent food for their imaginations and fancies. You know I read my girls pleasant tales and dialogues sometimes, and lend them books of poetry and history."

"Well, your girls are certainly better conducted than mine," said Giulia. "They giggle less."

"A canister with very little in it always rattles," said Vittoria. "I hate giggling."

"So do I; and, do you know, my dear Vittoria, that is one reason why I have so little to say to my maids."

"It is the very reason why you should say the more. You should fill the canisters."

"I will try then," said the ingenuous Giulia, "when I return to Fondi."

She returned there very soon: and Vittoria Colonna went to Lucca; "in an unostentatious manner," says the old chronicler, "attended by only six gentlewomen."

Why she went to Lucca, except that it was just then rife with the Reformed opinions, and ready to throw off the yoke of Rome, the chronicler sayeth not. From Lucca she proceeded by easy stages to Ferrara, mounted on her black and white jennet, with housings of crimson velvet fringed with gold, and attended by six grooms on foot, in cloaks and jerkins of blue and yellow satin. She herself wore a robe of brocaded crimson velvet, with a girdle of beaten gold; and on her head a travelling-cap of crimson satin, well becoming her "trecce d'oro," and large, mild blue eyes.

Arrived at Ferrara, she was delightedly welcomed by Duke Ercole and Duchess RenÉe. Here was a house divided against itself. The poor Duchess—highly intelligent and a little crooked—now in her twenty-ninth year, had been harshly dealt with by her husband, only a twelvemonth back, for harbouring and comforting those arch-heretics Calvin and Clement Marot; and was now kept very much in check by the terrors of the Church, though in heart as much a Reformer as ever.

To grace "the divine Vittoria," whose poetical fame was known all over Italy, and whose eulogist, Bernardo Tasso, was secretary to the Duchess of Ferrara, Duke Ercole invited the most distinguished literati of Venice and Lombardy to meet her. Oh, what a feast of reason and flow of soul! What reciprocations of compliments and couplets! What ransacking of heathen mythologies for metaphors and allusions! And then, in the retirement of the Duchess's closet, poor RenÉe could, with a full heart, ask Vittoria how things were going at Naples, whether Fra Bernardino were really as moving a preacher as was reported, and whether Juan di ValdÉs were sound on the doctrine of justification.

And perhaps they had a snatch of serious reading together, and Vittoria might recite to her a few of her sacred sonnets, copies of which were coveted even by cardinals; and if the Duke came in and constrained them to change the subject, there was the clever little Princess Anne to exhibit, who was being educated, for the sake of emulation, with Olympia Morata. Certes, Vittoria was made much of! But the air of Ferrara did not agree with her health, and she was soon obliged to move southwards. Among the dreams and schemes of the hour, which were never to be realised, was a projected visit to the Holy Land. She would so like to see the holy places!

"The wildest scheme!" young Del Vasto pronounced it, when a rumour of it reached him at Rome. He lost no time in hastening to his beloved friend, to dissuade her from what she had perhaps never seriously contemplated, and to induce her to be content with the Eternal City. And when she reached it, she was received with almost public honours—so proud was Italy of its "divine Vittoria Colonna!"

Here she found a circle of the most eminent men in Italy, hopefully awaiting the issue of Cardinal Contarini's conciliatory mission to the German Reformers; and it was trusted that, by wise concessions on the part of Rome, a fearful schism might be avoided. But when did Rome ever make wise concessions?

It was at this time that the friendship commenced between Vittoria and Michael Angelo, which was equally honourable to both; and we have his own word for it, that through her he was made a devout Christian. It was the crowning beauty of her life.

Meanwhile Giulia was the prey of intense melancholy at Fondi. It expressed itself in joyless looks, in mournful tones, in neglected dress, in small austerities, in rising at out-of-the-way hours to tell her rosary, &c.

Her ladies united in declaring that she must be ill, and that the marsh miasma was answerable for it. So then Bar Hhasdai was sent for; and he advised change of air and quantum sufficit of generous red wine well spiced. She acquiesced in both prescriptions; and then indulged in a little doctors' gossip, that most healing balm. They talked over the Cardinal's death, and Bar Hhasdai said that, even if he had been sooner sent for, he did not believe he could have saved him.

"One cardinal the less, one saint the more," said Giulia.

Bar Hhasdai looked sceptical. "Was he of the stuff that saints are made of?" said he.

"He was very generally liked," said Giulia.

"And so long as thou doest good unto thyself, men will speak well of thee," said the Jew, equivocally.

So she returned to her old quarters at Naples, where she had the satisfaction of hearing from ValdÉs, who immediately waited on her, that Ochino was again preaching with great acceptance. She had tried ascetic mortifications, on a small scale, without any beneficial result; and she now, with a heart aching for a better life, and sick of the world's pleasures, which, after all, she had never much indulged in, resolved to prove whether enduring comfort might not be derived from the cross of Christ.