is _innamorata_ in his own mansion.
Pellegrina protested in vain, but the more she admonished her husband
the more flagrant became the _liaison_. Cast off and even spurned in her
own house, the poor young Countess longed for her dear, dead mother's
presence. She had now no one to counsel and comfort her. Left pretty
much to herself, she yearned for companionship and love. She was only
twenty-four, and still as attractive as could be.

What she sought came at last, when young Antonio Riari took up his
residence at Bologna as a student-in-law. He was the great-grandnephew
of the infamous creature of reprobate Pope Sixtus IV.--Count Girolamo
de' Riari--of the Pazzi Conspiracy a hundred years before. Good-looking,
gay, amorous, and blessed with robust health and ample means, the young
man was the lover of every pretty girl.

Attracted mutually to one another, the Countess Pellegrina yielded
herself to her admirer's embraces--although Antonio was a mere lad of
seventeen. The intimacy grew until news of it reached Count Ulisse's
ears in the boudoir of his sweetheart! The gossip doubtless was
garnished to the taste of the retailers and of the receiver.

The Count turned upon his wife--as he might have been expected to do,
seeing that he had habitually been unfaithful, and taxed her with
unfaithfulness! Innocently enough, Pellegrina told him exactly how
matters stood, craved his forgiveness, and begged for the restitution of
marital rights. Conscious of his own turpitude and irregularity of life,
he met her protestations with scorn, and, seeing in the episode an
opportunity of legalising his illicit lusts, he denounced her publicly
and set spies to report her conduct.

These mercenaries, knowing the mind of their master, did not hesitate to
translate his words into deeds; and very soon they were able to realise
their dastardly purpose. Although the Countess had warned young Riario
of the danger which menaced them both, and was, for a time, more
circumspect in her intercourse with her lover, the fascination of mutual
passion overbore the dictates of prudence.

Like a "bolt from the blue" fell the blow--or blows--which, if not
delivered by Count Ulisse in person, were his _de jure_. Two paid
assassins chanced upon the loving couple one day, clasped in each
other's arms, in a summer-house in a remote part of the Bentivoglio
gardens!

Swift and certain was the aim! Pellegrina and Antonio were discovered,
late at night, each