The legend is that a certain duke of Florence, by name Ferdinand, attempted to captivate the young bride of a Florentine nobleman named Riccardi. But Riccardi, a very keen man, observed what was going on; and he said to his wife very quietly and firmly, "This is your room in my house; you shall stay in this room and never leave it during the rest of your life, never leave it until you are carried to the graveyard." So she had to live in that room. But the duke, who was a very handsome man, got a splendid bronze statue of himself on horseback erected in the public street opposite the window of the lady's room, so that she could always look at him. Then she had a bust of herself made and placed above the window, so that the duke could see the bust whenever he rode by. That is all the story--but not all the story as Browning tells it. Browning tells us the secret thoughts and feelings of the imprisoned wife and of the duke. At first the two intended to run away together. It would have been an easy matter. The woman would only have had to dress herself like a boy, and drop from the window, and get help from the duke to reach his palace. The duke thought to himself, "I can get this woman whenever I wish; but it will be better to wait a little while; then we can manage to live as we please without making too much trouble." So they both waited till they became old. Then the woman called an artist and said: "Make me a face on the window there, Waiting as ever, mute the while, My love pass below in the square! "And let me think that it may beguile Dreary days which the dead must spend Down in their darkness under the aisle, "To say, 'What matters it at the end? I did no more while my heart was warm Than does that image, my pale-faced friend.'" She thinks to console herself a moment by saying, "What is life worth? When I was young and beautiful and impulsive, I did no more harm or good, no more right or wrong, than the bust that resembles me. It is a comfort to think that I did nothing wrong." But is that enough? "Where is the use of the lip's red charm, The heaven of hair, the pride of the brow, And the blood that blues the inside arm-- "Unless we turn, as the soul knows how, The earthly gift to an end divine? A lady of clay is as good, I trow." Somehow or other she feels that it is no consolation not to have done wrong. She wonders what was the use of being so beautiful, if she could not make use of that beauty. The bust itself lived just as much as she did. And all this is true; but she is nearer to living than the duke. What does he say? "Set me on horseback here aloft, Alive, as the crafty sculptor can, "In the very square I have crossed so oft: That men may admire, when future suns Shall touch the eyes to a purpose soft, "While the mouth and the brow stay brave in bronze-- Admire and say, 'When he was alive How he would take his pleasure once!'"