the house
of a lady, her cousin, and that you have deceived her, and dishonoured
his house; he desires therefore to know what satisfaction you propose to
make for this, that he may then see what it behoves him to do. He has
begged me to be his aid and mediator in the matter, and I have consented
with a good will, since, from certain indications which he gave me, I
perceived that the person of whom of complained, and yourself, to whose
liberal courtesy I owe this rich ornament, were one and the same. Thus,
seeing that none could more effectually mediate between you than myself,
I offered to undertake that office willingly, as I have said; and now I
would have you tell me, Signor, if you know aught of this matter, and
whether what Lorenzo has told me be true."

"Alas, my friend, it is so true," replied the duke, "that I durst not
deny it, even if I would. Yet I have not deceived or carried off
Cornelia, although I know that she has disappeared from the house of
which you speak. I have not deceived her, because I have taken her for
my wife; and I have not carried her off, since I do not know what has
become of her. If I have not publicly celebrated my nuptials with her,
it is because I waited until my mother, who is now at the last
extremity, should have passed to another life, she desiring greatly that
I should espouse the Signora Livia, daughter of the Duke of Mantua.
There are, besides, other reasons, even more important than this, but
which it is not convenient that I should now make known.

"What has in fact happened is this:--on the night when you came to my
assistance, I was to have taken Cornelia to Ferrara, she being then in
the last month of her pregnancy, and about to present me with that
pledge of our love with which it has pleased God to bless us; but
whether she was alarmed by our combat or by my delay, I know not; all I
can tell you is, that when I arrived at the house, I met the confidante
of our affection just coming out. From her I learned that her mistress
had that moment left the house, after having given birth to a son, the
most beautiful that ever had been seen, and whom she had given to one
Fabio, my servant. The woman is she whom you see here. Fabio is also in
this company; but of Cornelia and her child I can learn nothing. These
two days I have passed at Bologna, in ceaseless endeavours to discover
her, or to obtain some clue to her retreat, but I have not been able to
learn anything."

"In that