seemed near its accomplishment. The life of
the old Florentine seemed to me of too little account to offset the
destruction of our family: he must lose the idol of his heart, his
daughter Bianca. Was it not she who treated my brother so shamefully?
Was it not she who was the chief cause of our misfortunes? The news
that she was about to be married a second time was very welcome to my
revengeful heart. This would but heighten the vengeance of my blow. It
was settled in my mind that she _must_ die. But I myself shrank from
the deed, and I did not credit Pietro with nerve enough; so we looked
about for a man who could accomplish the work. I did not dare approach
any of the Florentines, as none of them would have dared to undertake
such a thing against the Governor. It was then that the scheme I
afterward carried out, occurred to Pietro, who at the same time pitched
upon you, a stranger and physician, as being the most suitable person
to do the deed. The rest of the story you know. The only danger to the
success of my scheme lay in your sagacity and honesty; hence the affair
with the mantle.

"Pietro opened the side gate of the Governor's palace for us, and would
have shown us out as secretly, had not he and I fled, horrified by the
terrible sight we saw through a crack in the door. Pursued by terror
and remorse, I ran some two hundred paces, and sank down on the steps
of a church. There I collected my thoughts, and my first one was of you
and your fate, should you be found in the house. I stole to the palace,
but could find no trace of either you or Pietro. The side gate was
open, so I could at least hope that you had taken advantage of the
opportunity to flee. But when the day broke, fear of discovery and a
sensation of remorse drove me from Florence. I hastened to Rome. But
imagine my consternation when, in the course of a few days, this story
reached Rome, with the additional report that the murderer, a Greek
physician, had been captured! I returned to Florence with sad
apprehensions, for, if my revenge had before seemed too strong, I
cursed it now, as it would have been purchased too dearly with your
life. I arrived in Florence on the day you lost your hand. I will be
silent over what I felt as I saw you ascend the scaffold and suffer so
heroically. But as your blood streamed out, I made the resolve to see
that the rest of your life should be passed in comfort. What happened
afterwards, you know. It only remains for me