rely ought
to have done, in recognition of the Cardinal's successful advocacy of
his own advancement.

Naturally, poor Giulia pined and pined for her lover with whom, she was
of course forbidden to correspond. At length her health gave way, and
she appealed to her father to obtain just one interview with Ippolito
before she died. Reluctantly permission was given by the Pope, and
Ippolito, after the completion of his diplomatic duties in Naples,
sought the neighbourhood of his _innamorata_; ostensibly upon the plea
that his health needed the rest and change which the invigorating air of
the _Foresteria_, a sanatorium at Itri, offered.

Among Giulia's attendants was an old retainer of Alessandro de' Medici,
still devoted to his service, and mindful of youthful escapades together
at the Vatican. Him Alessandro persuaded, by means of a heavy bribe and
the promise of efficient protection, to undertake the removal of
Ippolito. Whilst dallying with his former mistress, the Cardinal fell
ill of malarial fever, common in the swampy plain of Garigliano, where
he had gone shooting snipe.

Giovanni Andrea da Borgo San Sepolcro, the accomplice of his master,
prepared some chicken broth, which he persuaded Ippolito to take. In
spite of its bitter taste he partook largely, but during the night he
was attacked with immoderate sickness. Before morning dawn the brilliant
career of Ippolito, Cardinal de' Medici, ended, and the harvest sun of
10th August 1535 rose upon his rigid corpse in Giulia's chamber!

The poisoner fled to Florence, and was lodged safely in the Palazzo
Medici, under the Duke's special protection. Alessandro received the
news of Ippolito's death with the utmost satisfaction. "Now," said he,
"the vile wasp is crushed at last!" The dead body of his victim was
buried hurriedly at Itri, but, by Pope Paul's direction, it was exhumed
and given honourable burial within the church of San Lorenzo-e-Damaso in
Rome. Paul lamented the tragedy which had removed his friend so cruelly,
and he boldly accused Alessandro of having brought it about.

No one died more regretted. All Rome was in deepest mourning, and great
and small thronged to his burial. He had played the part of Lord
Bountiful ungrudgingly and with indiscriminating liberality. Very
fittingly it was remarked that he bore as his motto "_Inter omnes_." He
had all the making of a great man, but fickleness, inconsistency,
impatience, and self-indulgence, belittled his r