e
whole of the night either on horseback or in their carriages, making
interest that, at least so far as the women were concerned, they should
be put to death privately and in the prison, and that a free pardon
should be granted to Bernardo, a poor lad only fifteen years of age,
who, guiltless of any participation in the crime, yet found himself
involved in its consequences. The one who interested himself most in
the case was Cardinal Sforza, who nevertheless failed to elicit a
single gleam of hope, so obdurate was His Holiness. At length Farinacci,
working on the papal conscience, succeeded, after long and urgent
entreaties, and only at the last moment, that the life of Bernardo
should be spared.

From Friday evening the members of the brotherhood of the Conforteria
had gathered at the two prisons of Corte Savella and Tordinona. The
preparations for the closing scene of the tragedy had occupied workmen
on the bridge of Sant' Angelo all night; and it was not till five
o'clock in the morning that the registrar entered the cell of Lucrezia
and Beatrice to read their sentences to them.

Both were sleeping, calm in the belief of a reprieve. The registrar woke
them, and told them that, judged by man, they must now prepare to appear
before God.

Beatrice was at first thunderstruck: she seemed paralysed and
speechless; then she rose from bed, and staggering as if intoxicated,
recovered her speech, uttering despairing cries. Lucrezia heard the
tidings with more firmness, and proceeded to dress herself to go to the
chapel, exhorting Beatrice to resignation; but she, raving, wrung her,
hands and struck her head against the wall, shrieking, "To die! to die!
Am I to die unprepared, on a scaffold! on a gibbet! My God! my God!"
This fit led to a terrible paroxysm, after which the exhaustion of her
body enabled her mind to recover its balance, and from that moment she
became an angel of humility and an example of resignation.

Her first request was for a notary to make her will. This was
immediately complied with, and on his arrival she dictated its
provisions with much calmness and precision. Its last clause desired her
interment in the church of San Pietro in Montorio, for which she always
had a strong attachment, as it commanded a view of her father's palace.
She bequeathed five hundred crowns to the nuns of the order of the
Stigmata, and ordered that her dowry, amounting to fifteen thousand
crowns, should be distributed in ma