l citizens of Fermo to a banquet, and at table contrived to turn
the conversation upon the Pope and the Duke of Valentinois; whereupon,
saying that these were matters to be discussed more in private, he rose
from table and begged them to withdraw with him into another room.

All unsuspecting--what should old Fogliano suspect from one so loved and
so deeply in his debt?--they followed him to the chamber where he had
secretly posted a body of his men-at-arms. There, no sooner had the
door closed upon this uncle, and those others who had shown him so
much affection, than he gave the signal for the slaughter that had been
concerted. His soldiers fell upon those poor, surprised victims of his
greed, and made a speedy and bloody end of all.

That first and chief step being taken, Oliverotto flung himself on his
horse, and, gathering his men-at-arms about him, rode through Fermo on
the business of butchering what other relatives and friends of Fogliano
might remain. Among these were Raffaele della Rovere and two of his
children, one of whom was inhumanly slaughtered in its mother's lap.

Thereafter he confiscated to his own uses the property of those whom he
had murdered, and of those who, more fortunate, had fled his butcher's
hands. He dismissed the existing Council and replaced it by a government
of his own. Which done--to shelter himself from the consequences--he
sent word to the Pope that he held Fermo as Vicar of the Church.

Whilst a portion of his army marched on Camerino, Cesare, armed with his
pretext for the overthrow of Guidobaldo, set himself deliberately and
by an elaborate stratagem to the capture of Urbino. Of this there can
be little doubt. The cunning of the scheme is of an unsavoury sort, when
considered by the notions that obtain to-day, for the stratagem was no
better than an act of base treachery. Yet, lest even in this you should
be in danger of judging Cesare Borgia by standards which cannot apply to
his age, you will do well to consider that there is no lack of evidence
that the fifteenth century applauded the business as a clever coup.

Guidobaldo da Montefeltre was a good prince. None in all Italy was
more beloved by his people, towards whom he bore himself with a kindly,
paternal bonhomie. He was a cultured, scholarly man, a patron of the
arts, happiest in the splendid library of the Palace of Urbino. It
happened, unfortunately, that he had no heir, which laid his dominions
open to the danger of