It must have been early in their acquaintance that such gratitude was poured forth for so slight a favour. There are balconies at Villa d'Este, balustraded terraces where now the contorted stems of giant vines wrestle with the carved pillarets and rend them relentlessly from their copings where at intervals the bayonet-leaved aloes keep sentinel like the bravi of Cardinal Ippolito I., their long green knives unsheathed and ready for any deed of horror. Here, unconscious of spying eyes, Leonora may have leant apparently absorbed in that glorious view, and Tasso's hand have stolen furtively to her own. But was there no other guerdon for his long service than this shy avowal--no other bliss before that long horror of imprisonment and real or imputed madness which ended only after Leonora's death? Only the Duke Alphonso and those who so basely read the poet's private papers can reply. Cardinal Ippolito must have guessed to what end the pastoral of Villa d'Este was tending; but whether his sympathy was real or feigned for his own uses we cannot know. [Illustration: _Alinari_ Villa d'Este--Terrace Staircase] He never attained his ambition, for death suddenly claimed him before the aged Pope whom he had hoped to succeed. Tasso's tragedy culminated, as Goethe tells us, at another villa, that of Belriguardo. The pastoral of Villa d'Este ends in a chorus or envoy expressive of that tremulous hope which flutters so deliciously in every line of the exquisite poem: "I know not if the bitterness That, serving long, long yearning, one hath borne In tears and all forlorn, May wholly turn to sweet, and Love requite All sorrows with delight. But if this be and pain That bringeth joy enricheth often gain; I ask thee not, O Love, To give me gain thy common gains above. * * * If gentle dear disdains And dulcet coy defeats And strifes fond lovers use To fire their hearts--but close with love's long truce." NOTE.--The selections from the _Amyntas_ quoted in this article have been selected from the admirable metrical translation of Mr. R. Whitmore. [Illustration] CHAPTER VI MONDRAGONE "'Tis a grave responsibility to play the dragon to a pretty woman."