One can scarcely imagine a more charming spot than the site of the castle of Asolo. Encircled by the Alps, the plains of the Brenta and the Piave spread out before it. The group of Euganean Hills rises proudly in the distance. Under a clear moon the silver threads of the rivers may be followed to the sea; and in the rich, distant, level country Vicenza and Padua lift their towers, while far away to the sun-rising lies Venice, its many spires clear cut against the blue sky and the blue Adriatic; and to the north the snow-capped Rhœtian Alps stand forth as if to guard all the land they overlook. In contrast to all this expanse and grandeur is the little town of Asolo, just beneath the castle at the foot of the hill on which it stands. It is a walled town, with genuine mediæval turrets and some quaint house-façades, and in Caterina's day was inhabited by a people glad to be protected with gentleness and ruled by one who cared for their gratitude and love. To them Caterina gave good laws. She brought grain from Cyprus, and gave it to them. She appointed a judge to hear their causes, and established a pawnbroker's bank for those who needed it. Her little court included but twelve maids of honor. She had eighty serving-men besides her dwarf jester, and a favorite negress who cared for her parrots. She had her hounds, apes, and peacocks, and, we are glad to know, she had a generous income. Here she lived during twenty years, and we doubt not that her title of Lady of Asolo came to be very sweet to {238} her. Certainly she bore it with more peace than ever she had known as a queen. Here the outside pleasures were rambles in gardens and woods, the harvest _festa_, and the May Day gayety with her people; and within her castle she had the lutes and songs at eventide, and at all hours the never-ending speculations on platonic love and other sleep-begetting subjects. Pietro Bembo, when twenty-eight years old, as full of life and keen of intellect as handsome in person, came one fine September day to Asolo. He had been at the court of Lucrezia Borgia, at Ferrara. Imagine the contrast between these two beautiful women, and their lives. It was the wedding of Floriano di Floriano da Montagnana with one of Caterina's ladies that drew Bembo away from the golden-haired Lucrezia, and many other guests had come from Venice, and from all the neighboring land, glad to escape from the plains to the heights of Asolo.