their charming villa
of Cerreto Guidi, a few miles out of Florence.

There was something uncanny in the air, which caused the Duchess and her
lady instinctively to draw back. It was not the Duke's voice, for that
was pitched in an unusually tender key, and yet, its very unusuality
might have caused their trepidation. There was something indefinable in
the situation, which produced apprehension and alarm.

Doubtless their nerves were overstrained by the terrible event at
Cafaggiuolo. Eleanora, the Duchess's sister-in-law, had seen and felt
the cold steel dagger, struck out from behind the arras, by her
husband's hand--she was dead! Every titled woman, and many another
too, felt instinctively that she was walking on dangerous ground: murder
seemed to lurk everywhere, and marriage appeared to spell assassination!

* * * * *

The remorse of Cosimo de' Medici for the murder of his dearly-loved
child Maria, his first-born, did not hinder his policy of
aggrandisement. He was determined to keep the whip-hand over Ferrara,
and to maintain the precedence of his house over that of the Estensi. He
had already sacrificed one daughter, not only to his parental passion
but to his sovereign will, and one daughter still remained unbargained;
he would use her to hold what he had got.

Lucrezia was no more than twelve years old when Maria passed to
Paradise. Prince Alfonso was twenty-two, and his father, Duke Ercole
II., had apparently no fiancee in view for him, and the lad seemed not
to be in a marrying mood. At the moment Ferrara was isolated, but
Cosimo, seizing a favourable opportunity, through his relationship with
the King of Spain, contrived to arrange a treaty between that kingdom,
Tuscany and Parma, which he adroitly extended to include Ferrara.

It was a powerful combination, and Cosimo had his price, and that price
was the betrothal of Alfonso and Lucrezia. The Duke of Ferrara yielded,
and in the same month, March 1558, the treaty of alliance was signed at
Pisa, and the two young people were affianced there by proxy.

To be sure, there was trouble with Rome. Julius III., in 1552, had
bespoken Lucrezia for his bastard nephew, Fabiano Conte Del Monte--a man
without resources and of no recognised position nor of good
character--it was just a selfish whim of the Pope--the children never
saw each other. Cosimo, with his usual daring, brushed the whole project
aside, and made a liberal contribu