ggravated by his brother's raillery,
hastily drew his heavy hunting-knife and brandished it before Giovanni's
face, threatening to do for him if he did not desist, and withdraw his
claim to first shot.

Giovanni pushed the boy from him, perhaps somewhat roughly, and then
Garzia, having entirely lost command of himself, struck a blow at his
brother which wounded him severely in the groin. Giovanni fell to the
ground, exclaiming, "And this from you, Garzia. May God in Heaven
forgive you. Call help at once."

The blast of the horn soon gathered round the unhappy brothers courtiers
and huntsmen. Giovanni was bleeding freely, his hose and buskins were
saturated, and Garzia was weeping piteously, and crying out
despondently, "Oh God, I have killed Giovanni! Oh God, I have killed
Giovanni!" A huntsman snatched up the gory lethal weapon, lest the boy,
in his despair, should turn it upon himself.

All that they could do to staunch Giovanni's wound they did, and having
made a temporary stretcher with guns and hunting-cloaks, the little
cavalcade was preparing to move on to seek further assistance. They had
not proceeded very far when the Duke and his attendants rode upon the
scene. Halting the bearers of his son he enquired who it was they
carried. Before any one could make a reply, Don Garzia ran shrieking up
to his father.

"It is me, your Garzia, I have killed Giovanni," he cried out in abject
terror.

Cosimo motioned the sorrowful bearers to proceed, and they and their
burden were no sooner out of sight than Duchess Eleanora came up in her
sedan-chair, terribly agitated by the cries she had heard in the forest.
She approached her husband and found him standing lost in thought, with
that terrible expression upon his face which he exhibited once before
when she had enquired for her first-born, Maria!

There, too, on the sward, was her favourite son, her Garzia, apparently
in a swoon, and she advanced to aid him. Garzia heard his mother coming
towards him and, rousing himself, he ran and threw himself into her
arms, weeping bitterly.

Then once more he turned to his father pleadingly, and kneeling to him,
grasped his legs, imploring pardon for his crime--for neither father nor
son doubted but that Giovanni was dead. Baring his head, and holding his
arms wide apart to Heaven, the Duke appealed to God to direct his
actions. Then, turning to his son, grovelling at his feet. "Behold, thy
brother's blood," he cried with bitt