Madame Serpent by Jean Plaidy Page A

she saw a response to her own delight.
    Ippolito took her hand and kissed it.
    ‘Life has consolations to offer, Caterina,’ he said. And they laughed and whipped up their horses.
    Never had Caterina been so happy. She sent for the brothers Ruggieri. She gave them orders for perfumes and lotions. She begged them to look into her future. It was exciting to wrap herself in a cloak and slip quickly through the streets of Rome to the room these brothers shared. She begged them to let her look into the magic mirror. She would see the face of the man who was to be her husband. The brothers had fled from Florence; they had not, here in Rome, the necessary articles for their study. They would do their best for their little Duchess.
    Soon they would find some means of showing her the face of her future
    husband.
    But Caterina believed she saw it; it was noble and dark, a handsome face
    with eyes that flashed and sparkled― Medici eyes very like her own.
    This was to be in love. To sing for happiness, to see the river sparkling as it had never sparkled before, the grand and imposing buildings softened, more lovely, the faces of those about her more gentle, the sun more warming; in this new emotion was the dread that she might not see Ippolito this day, then the overwhelming delight when she did.
    Ippolito could not remain ignorant of this joy which had seized her. He must see it in the shine of her eyes, in the inflexion of her voice when she spoke to him.
    They spoke of their love when they rode out together. This is the happiest day of my life, thought Caterina, looking back at that most gracious of cities glittering in sunshine that had never been so bright as it was on this day of Caterina’s happiness.
    Ippolito said: ‘I pray the saints that you are as happy as I am, Caterina. I bless them because the Pope cannot marry you to Alessandro.’
    ‘Do not speak of him on such a day as this.’
    ‘No,’ agreed Ippolito. ‘Let us speak of ourselves instead.’ ‘Oh yes― of
    ourselves, Ippolito.’
    ‘I love you, Caterina. I loved you when you were a little girl and we were together in the palace in our beloved Florence.’
    ‘I loved you also, Ippolito. I have never ceased to think of you during the years of our separation. I knew that we should be together again.’
    They had stopped. The attendants kept some distance behind; they had
    known, before the young people were aware of it, of this state of love between them.
    Ippolito took her hand and kissed it.
    ‘The Holy Father means us for each other,’ he said. ‘Depend upon it. He
    would not allow us to be together if that were not so.’
    ‘You are right, Ippolito. Oh, how happy I am!’
    ‘I too. Caterina, since you love me, it does not seem to matter that I have lost Florence.’
    ‘I understand. I have been unhappy; I have suffered― loneliness and horror.
    But I do not care now, Ippolito, because life brought me this.’
    They longed to kiss, to embrace, but how could they, here in the open
    country with their attendants behind them? The talk of their future, though; they could promise love and passion with their eyes.
    ‘Caterina, I do not believe the people of Florence will long submit to
    Alessandro’s tyranny.’
    ‘No, Ippolito. I am sure they will not.’
    ‘And then, my love, I shall rule Florence― and you with me. We shall be
    together in the palace where we spent our childhood.’
    She said: ‘Ippolito, can one die of happiness, for if one can, I fear you will lose me.’
    He answered: ‘I cannot bear to look at you and not kiss you. Let us ride.’
    Later there were embraces; there were kisses; it was not possible to keep such a charming love affair secret. And why should it be secret? Ippolito, Caterina, cousins and both Medici. Why should their union be denied the Papal blessing?
    The happy days marched quickly past.
    Such a matter could not be kept long from the Pontifical ears. The news was whispered among the Swiss Guards and Palatine