ate two sad events which happened to him at the end of 1555. On the
28th of September he wrote to Lionardo: "The bad news about Gismondo
afflicts me deeply. I am not without my own troubles of health, and
have many annoyances besides. In addition to all this, Urbino has been
ill in bed with me three months, and is so still, which causes me much
trouble and anxiety." Gismondo, who had been declining all the summer,
died upon the 13th of November. His brother in Rome was too much taken
up with the mortal sickness of his old friend and servant Urbino to
express great sorrow. "Your letter informs me of my brother Gismondo's
death, which is the cause to me of serious grief. We must have
patience; and inasmuch as he died sound of mind and with all the
sacraments of the Church, let God be praised. I am in great affliction
here. Urbino is still in bed, and very seriously ill. I do not know
what will come of it. I feel this trouble as though he were my own
son, because he has lived in my service twenty-five years, and has
been very faithful. Being old, I have no time to form another servant
to my purpose; and so I am sad exceedingly. If then, you know of some
devout person, I beg you to have prayers offered up to God for his
recovery."

The next letter gives a short account of his death:--

"I inform you that yesterday, the 3rd of December, at four o'clock,
Francesco called Urbino passed from this life, to my very great
sorrow. He has left me sorely stricken and afflicted; nay, it would
have been sweeter to have died with him, such is the love I bore him.
Less than this love he did not deserve; for he had grown to be a
worthy man, full of faith and loyalty. So, then, I feel as though his
death had left me without life, and I cannot find heart's ease. I
should be glad to see you, therefore; only I cannot think how you can
leave Florence because of your wife."

To Vasari he wrote still more passionately upon this occasion:--

"I cannot write well; yet, in answer to your letter, I will say a few
words. You know that Urbino is dead. I owe the greatest thanks to God,
at the same time that my own loss is heavy and my sorrow infinite. The
grace He gave me is that, while Urbino kept me alive in life, his
death taught me to die without displeasure, rather with a deep and
real desire. I had him with me twenty-six years, and found him above
measure faithful and sincere. Now that I had made him rich, and
thought to keep him as the staff