Vittoria, when the first violence of her despair
had in some degree subsided, on looking round
her to see where she might hope for aid, decided
on making three applications. Her first letter
was to the Duke of Ferrara, who had been named
the executor of her husband's will. And the
duke, it would seem, promised that he would,
and did take care, that any questions arising on
it should be honestly and fairly determined by
the proper tribunals, and that it should receive
full execution. The second letter was to the
senate of Venice, in which she set forth her
friendless position, mentioned modestly her
claims on the protection of the republic as the
widow of an Orsini, and besought the senators
to see that she had justice done her. This
application also was favourably received; and the
senate ordered their governor in Padua to see that
she was put in possession of at least that
valuable movable property in jewels, &c., which was
then in that city. The third application was a
more difficult one to make; and in it she took a
totally different tone. In her letters to the
Duke of Ferrara and to the Venetian Senate, she
evidently had not abandoned the hope of securing
the splendid position which her husband had
intended to provide for her. But in the third,
which was to no other than Pope Sixtus, she represents
herself to stand in a very different position.
She appears to take it as certain, in writing to
him, that she shall fail in making good her claim to
any provision whatever under her husband's will;
does not even intimate any intention of resisting
the intentions of his family; talks much of her
remorse, and repentance, disgust with the world
and all its vanities; and begs of his charity an
alms of five hundred crowns to enable her to
enter some convent either in Rome or Venice.
It may be shrewdly doubted whether Vittoria
intended this humble plea for the injured Pope's
merciful consideration to be taken by him quite
literally. Sixtus, however, either did not, or
would not, see any other meaning in it. His
sister Cammilla, whose agony for the loss of her
son we have seen, and who found it too hard a
task to pardon the false wife, who had, as she
doubted not, conspired to murder him, would
fain have had the Pope reject her supplication.
But, "What!" said Sixtus, " if this wretched
creature repents, and wishes to spend the
remainder of her life in God's service, shall we, his
Vicar, refuse to her the means of doing so?" So
he gave orders that the exact sum asked, neither
more nor less, should be remitted to her at
Padua.

Vittoria wrote also to her brother, the Bishop
of Fossombrone, acquainting him with the
misfortune that had befallen her. It is likely that
she had placed no great reliance on help or
comfort from this quarter. But she, in all
probability, hardly expected to receive a reply, in
which the right reverend prelate, whose morals
had by this time, it is to be supposed, reached a
pitch of the most aggravating sanctity, told her,
that since her present position was miserable,
and there was every reason to suppose that
worse was at hand, she ought to thank God for
having thus shown her the vanity of all earthly
hopes and pleasures, and put the passing hours
to profit in preparing herself for eternity, as it
was very evident that the Orsini would not be
content without compassing her death.

The dramatis personæ of this faithful extract
from the chronicles of the good old times, are,
every one of them, it must be admitted, far from
engaging characters. But the present writer
may mention, as a little bit of confidence between
him and the reader, that he, for his part, would
experience less repugnance in taking any one of
them by the hand—even the noble twenty-stone
Orsini himself—than this young man of saintly
morals developed into a bishop.

In the mean time, Ludovico Orsini had arrived
in Padua from Venice; and his first interview with
the beautiful widow showed her only too clearly
what she had to expect of justice, forbearance,
or knightly bearing from so illustrious a nobleman.
He came with a retinue of armed men at
his heels, whom he bade to surround the house,
and keep good watch that nothing left it; while
he went in, and roughly calling the frightened
widow to his presence, bade her give account to
him of everything the late prince had left.
Having no means of resistance, Vittoria had no
choice but to obey. But Ludovico, finding, we
are told, that certain objects of value which he
knew his cousin to have had in his possession
were not forthcoming, became so violent in his
threats, that, being in fear for her life, she
produced the missing articles, "and gave him good
words, and behaved with so much submission,
that he wrote off to the Cardinal dei Medici, that
there would be no difficulty in the business, and
that the whole matter was in his own hands."
On learning, however, shortly afterwards, that,
notwithstanding her timidity and apparent
submissiveness, the widow had already made
application to powerful protectors, and had taken
steps for the enforcing of her legal rights, the
noble bully was all the more enraged, from having
prematurely boasted to the Medici of his power
to crush her and her pretensions so easily.
Vittoria, moreover, immediately, as it would
seem, after this scene of violence, took the
prudent step of removing to the house her
husband had hired in Padua. She was there more
immediately under the protection of the podesta
of that city, who had been charged by the senate
to see that the will in her favour was duly
carried into execution as far as the goods situated
within the territory of the republic were
concerned; and was altogether, in such a city as
Padua, less exposed to any lawless violence than
at Salo.

Meanwhile the Duke of Ferrara had also been
taking steps to have Vittoria's title to the
chattel property duly decided by the Venetian
courts. And on the twenty-third of December a
decision was given on the various points raised in
her favour. Whether she would ever be able to
make good her claim to the remainder of the
large property to which she was entitled under
her husband's will, seemed exceedingly doubtful.
But, as was always the case at that period,