This Panazza, then, paused one day to admire the celebrated gateway and, running his glance over the walls of the building, he noticed that between the windowsill and the marble cornice under the second window, the wall was splattered with blood. He stopped an old man passing by to inquire about it, and was told this story.
At the end of the eighteenth century, the count, a widower, lived in the palazzo with his beautiful, well-mannered and kind daughter Nelda. One afternoon in October 1796 the count, leaning on the balcony, heard the cries of exultation of the populace following the proclamation of the Cispadane Republic at Ferrara. Overcome by enthusiasm, he invited his daughter to attend the celebrations and made her swear to hate forever the enemies of Italy. And Nelda, imprudently, swore the oath.
Two and a half years on, the Austrians returned to Ferrara and, alas, it happened that Nelda fell in love with an officer who she met in the church of Sant'Orsola. Secret meetings followed in a hidden chapel. Everything was going perfectly until some unknown party spilt the beans to the count.
The count, out of his mind with anger, set out to punish his oath-breaking daughter in the most horrible manner. It was the last night of the century, starless and black as sin, and midnight was sounding from the towers of Ferrara. The lover arrived in the darkness and quietly called to Nelda, who appeared, anxiously. But on the balcony above the couple, armed with the sharpest of blades, the patriotic but merciless count was spying on them. On the stroke of midnight, the count hurled his sword from the balcony and struck his daughter clean on the head, killing her on the spot. The horrified Austrian, covered in his lover's blood, ran from the scene.
No other reason is known for that bloodstain, but it is said that from that day since a swallow has flown over the palazzo, singing a lament.
A made-up story? We would like to hope so. However, the curious reader may wish to try and calculate the trajectory of the blade, or perhaps wait for the swallow to pass; certainly, for the royal Via dei Piopponi, one more legend will not be out of place.