That is not a sin.
VITTORIA.
Only a vanity.
JULIA.
He painted yours.
VITTORIA.
Do not call up to me those days departed When I was young, and all was bright about me, And the vicissitudes of life were things But to be read of in old histories, Though as pertaining unto me or mine Impossible.

Ah, then I dreamed your dreams, And now, grown older, I look back and see They were illusions.
JULIA.
Yet without illusions What would our lives become, what we ourselves?
Dreams or illusions, call them what you will, They lift us from the commonplace of life To better things.
VITTORIA.
Are there no brighter dreams, No higher aspirations, than the wish To please and to be pleased?
JULIA.
For you there are; I am no saint; I feel the world we live in Comes before that which is to be here after, And must be dealt with first.
VITTORIA.
But in what way?
JULIA.
Let the soft wind that wafts to us the odor Of orange blossoms, let the laughing sea And the bright sunshine bathing all the world, Answer the question.
VITTORIA.
And for whom is meant This portrait that you speak of?
JULIA.
For my friend The Cardinal Ippolito.
VITTORIA.
For him?
JULIA Yes, for Ippolito the Magnificent.
'T is always flattering to a woman's pride To be admired by one whom all admire.
VITTORIA.
Ah, Julia, she that makes herself a dove Is eaten by the hawk.

Be on your guard, He is a Cardinal; and his adoration Should be elsewhere directed.
JULIA.
You forget The horror of that night, when Barbarossa, The Moorish corsair, landed on our coast To seize me for the Sultan Soliman; How in the dead of night, when all were sleeping, He scaled the castle wall; how I escaped, And in my night-dress, mounting a swift steed, Fled to the mountains, and took refuge there Among the brigands.

Then of all my friends The Cardinal Ippolito was first To come with his retainers to my rescue.
Could I refuse the only boon he asked At such a time, my portrait?
VITTORIA.
I have heard Strange stories of the splendors of his palace, And how, apparelled like a Spanish Prince, He rides through Rome with a long retinue Of Ethiopians and Numidians And Turks and Tartars, in fantastic dresses, Making a gallant show.

Is this the way A Cardinal should live?
JULIA.
He is so young; Hardly of age, or little more than that; Beautiful, generous, fond of arts and letters, A poet, a musician, and a scholar; Master of many languages, and a player On many instruments.