The tone of the letters confirms the casual glimpses we have already obtained into the social relations of the time. People troubled little about family letters; these were simple and short, of the “dutifully affectionate” order, and composed of almost stereotyped commonplaces. Hardly anything is referred to in them except the material affairs of life—business, medicine, health, domestic events;[278] the sentimental part is dismissed very briefly—probably because family sentiments are necessarily sincere. On the other hand, letters written to friends, which were very numerous in Italy, were charming, tender, and graceful, ending often most prettily: “Your little sister ... who loves your lordship as her own soul—Isabella, with her own hand.” These last words, “with her own hand,” were not unnecessary, for a fashionable lady, not pluming herself on a telegraphic style, was obliged on principle and out of regard for her dignity to leave as much as possible to the pen of her secretary. Unhappily the secretary, not caring to serve as a mere scribe, pays attention to style, and touches up his periods, so that, failing an actual autograph, it is impossible to be sure what in a lady’s letter was really her own. Moreover, a lady of any position knew that her letter would be shown about, perhaps even transcribed or published. Bernardo Tasso, Aretino and many another were not startled when they saw books made out of their letters or of letters written to them; and the most interesting letters of Vittoria Colonna appeared early in the 16th century. It may be said then that letters came midway between conversation and books. In a lady’s letter there was nothing directly from the writer but the signature and the one or two autograph words preceding; in spite of which, the letters of the marchioness of Pescara and of Isabella d’Este form very pleasing and characteristic collections. After a visit from Isabella, the duchess Elizabeth of Urbino addressed this note to her: “I know not how to cure myself of the regret your ladyship’s departure has left me in. Methinks I have not only seen a dearly loved sister leave me, but that my very soul is gone. I must needs write you ever and anon, and make shift to say on this paper what I would fain say with my lips; if therein I could clearly express my sorrow, I am very sure ’twould be so potent as to cause your highness out of compassion to turn back. If I feared not to be a burden to you, methinks I should not hesitate myself to follow you. Neither thing is possible; my sole resource is to beg your highness to think of me as often as I bear you in my heart.”