Turning to the right under an archway from the damp, moss-grown court over which the tower throws a perpetual shadow, a broad staircase, closed by a door of open ironwork, leads to the first story (the piano nobile).  Here an anteroom, with Etruscan urns and fragments of mediaeval sculpture let into the walls, gives access to a great sala, or hall, where Paolo Guinigi entertained the citizens and magnates of Lucca with sumptuous hospitality.

The vaulted ceiling, divided into compartments by heavy panels, is profusely gilt, and painted in fresco by Venetian masters; but the gold is dulled by age, and the frescoes are but dingy patches of what once was color.  The walls, ornamented with Flemish tapestry, represent the Seven Labors of Hercules—­the bright colors all faded out and blurred like the frescoes.  Above, on the surface of polished walnut-wood, between the tapestry and the ceiling, are hung suits of mail, helmets, shields, swords, lances, and tattered banners.

Every separate piece has its history.  Each lance, in the hand of some mediaeval hero of the name, has transfixed a foe, every sword has been dyed in the life-blood of a Ghibelline.

At the four corners of the hall are four doorways corresponding to each other.  Before each doorway hang curtains of Genoa velvet, embroidered in gold with the Guinigi arms surmounted by a princely coronet.  Time has mellowed these once crimson curtains to dingy red.  From the hall, entered by these four doors, open out endless suites of rooms, enriched with the spoils of war and the splendor of feudal times.  Not a chair, not a table, has been renewed, or even shifted from its place, since the fourteenth century, when Paolo Guinigi reigned absolute in Lucca.

On first entering, it is difficult to distinguish any thing in the half-light.  The narrow Gothic casements of the whole floor are closed, both those toward the street and those facing inward upon the inner court.  The outer wooden shutters are also closely fastened.  The marchesa would consider it a sacrilege to allow light or even outer air to penetrate in these rooms, sacred to the memory of her great ancestors.

First in order after the great hall is a long gallery paneled with dark marble.  It has a painted ceiling, and a mosaic floor.  Statues and antique busts, presented by the emperor to Paolo Guinigi, are ranged on either side.  This gallery leads through various antechambers to the retiring-room, where, in feudal times, the consort of the reigning lord presided when the noble dames of Lucca visited her on state occasions—­a victory gained over the Pisans or Florentines—­the conquest of a rebellious city, Pistoia perhaps—­the birth of a son; or—­the anniversary of national festivals.  Pale-blue satin stuffs and delicate brocades, crossed with what was once glittering threads of gold, cover the walls.  Rows of Venetian-glass chandeliers, tinted in every shade of loveliest color,