dialogues of the
Cortigiano, and is frequently mentioned as worthy to rank with Michael
Angelo, whose fame he might have rivalled had he not suffered from
continual ill health. As it is, the few works which he left behind him
are marked with singular grace and refinement. His bust of Beatrice, now
in the Louvre, where for many years it passed as the work of Leonardo,
is at once remarkable for its truth and charm. The somewhat irregular
features of the maiden of fifteen years are admirably given, the
roundness of her cheeks, the pouting lips and slightly _retrousse_ nose,
and the curling locks are faithfully represented; yet we realize the
force of character that lies under this soft, child-like face, and the
frank joyousness which made her so attractive. Each stray lock of hair
is rendered with delicate accuracy, the brocaded bodice of her gown and
the scarf lightly thrown over her shoulders are elaborately adorned with
the triangular diamond and other favourite devices of the house of Este.
The quaint figure of the two hands holding a veil, from which
fertilizing dust falls on the open flower, is supposed to be an emblem
of marriage, and is said to signify that Beatrice was already an
affianced bride. But since the words "Herculis filiae" are cut in the
marble, it is plain that Cristoforo carved the bust while the young
duchess was still in her father's home, and probably took it home with
him that autumn to Milan.

That year the winter set in with unusual severity. The bitter frost and
cold which man and beast endured that January were long remembered, both
in Mantua and Ferrara. On Christmas night it began to snow, and so heavy
and continuous was the fall, that by noon on the next day the snow lay
three feet deep in front of the Vescovado, or Bishop's house, opposite
the Este palace. The Po was frozen over, and the ice on the river never
thawed until the first week in February, while the snow lasted till the
12th of March, and some patches might still be seen in the streets of
Ferrara on the 20th of that month.

In the midst of these unwonted rigours, the wedding-party set out on
their long journey. The royal brides of these days seem to have been
singularly unlucky in the matter of weather. For one thing, they always
travelled in the depths of winter. Elizabeth Gonzaga almost died of
exhaustion after the sufferings of her journey from Mantua to Urbino in
a violent tempest, which kept her ship tossing on the waves