Lucrezia moved like the fabled princess in a dream.  Her eyes were wet with weeping, and, although she restrained her emotion, her disappointment and distress caused her silent and bitter suffering.  Accustomed as she was to obey implicitly the commands of her autocratic father, she knew that she must submit to the harshness of her spouse, and make the best of a most unfortunate and embarrassing situation.

Alfonso had forbidden her to write to him, but appointed a faithful follower of his, Francesco da Susena, as confidential Chamberlain of the youthful Princess.  He was to provide funds and disburse them for the expenses of the Princess, and to keep his master well posted in all that transpired, and, in particular, to inform him of every word and action of his forsaken girl-wife!

Ten days after the departure of the Prince from Florence, he wrote a letter to Lucrezia, which he bade da Susena read, and then give her.  The Court was at Poggio a Caiano in villeggiatura, and the Chamberlain was in the company.  He gave the Princess her husband’s letter, and made the following report to his master:—­

“I was taken to the slope of a hill, where Her Highness the Princess was walking with the Duchess Eleanora, who is always with her.  I gave her the letter, which she took greedily, with exceeding joy, and retired apart with it.  She read it over and over again, and then she questioned me about your Highness....  I told her that she had no occasion to fear, for your Highness would run no more risk than the king himself.  She appeared much comforted, and told me to beg your Highness, in her name, to hasten your return to Florence.”  Within six months of Lucrezia’s ill-fated marriage, Duke Ercole died at Ferrara, and her husband succeeded as Alfonso II.  The life of Ercole and his Duchess Renata had been anything but happy.  He was as ambitious as he was unscrupulous:  Lord of Modena and Reggio and Papal Vicar of Ferrara, his possessions stretched from the Adriatic to the Apennines.  Extravagant and devoted to amusement, he spared neither time nor money in the full enjoyment of pleasure.

The Court of Ferrara became under him the most splendid Court in Europe—­famous for the excellence of its music and its dancing and the superiority of its theatre—­Carnival lasted from New Year’s Day to Ash Wednesday.  Duchess Renata never loved her husband nor his people.  Until she fell under the influence of Calvin she was discontented, passionate, and bigoted.  The Duke scouted her ill-humour and treated her cruelly.

“Peu d’amys, qui conques est loing d’eulx” was said of unhappy Renata.  She gave her disposition to her son, but he did not follow her religious predilections.  He enclosed her in a convent—­the sanctuary of princely widows and orphans—­where she died in 1597.