rs are sped and much calumny has been heaped upon her
name.

I might pause here to make some attempt at refuting the base falsehoods
that had been bruited by that time-serving vassal Guicciardini,
and others of his kidney, whom the upstart Cardinal Giuliano della
Rovere--sometime pedlar--in his jealous fury at seeing the coveted
pontificate pass into the family of Borgia, bought and hired to do his
loathsome work of calumny and besmirch the fame of as sweet a lady as
Italy has known. But this poor chronicle of mine is rather concerned
with the history of Madonna Paola di Santafior, and it were a divergence
well-nigh unpardonable to set my pen at present to that other task.
Moreover, there is scarce the need. If any there be who doubt me, or if
future generations should fall into the error of lending credence to the
lies of that villain Guicciardini, of that arch-villain Giuliano della
Rovere, or of other smaller fry who have lent their helot's pens to
weave mendacious records of her life, dubbing her murderess, adulteress,
and Heaven knows what besides--I will but refer them to the archives
of Ferrara, whose Duchess she became at the age of one-and-twenty, and
where she reigned for eighteen years. There shall it be found recorded
that she was an exemplary, God-fearing woman; a faithful and honoured
wife; a wise, devoted mother; and a princess, beloved and esteemed by
her people for her piety, her charity and her wisdom. If such records as
are there to be read by earnest seekers after truth be not sufficient to
convince, and to reveal those others whom I have named in the light of
their true baseness, then were it idle for me to set up in these pages a
passing refutation of the falsehoods which it has grieved me so often to
hear repeated.

It was two days later that the Lord Giovanni set out for Rome, obedient
to the command he had received. But before his departure--on the eve of
it, to be precise--there arrived at Pesaro a very wonderful and handsome
gentleman. This was the brother of Madonna Paola, the High and Mighty
Lord Filippo di Santafior. He had had a hint in Rome that his connivance
at his sister's defiant escape was suspected at the Vatican, and he
had wisely determined that his health would thrive better in a northern
climate for a while.

A very splendid creature was this Lord Filippo, all shimmering
velvet, gleaming jewels, costly furs and glittering gold. His face
was effeminate, though finely featured,