s, and wished
him a very good night. The duke turned to the right, and Caesar to the
left; but Caesar observed that the street the duke had taken led in the
direction of the convent of San Sisto, where, as we said, Lucrezia was in
retreat; his suspicions were confirmed by this observation, and he
directed his horse's steps to the Vatican, found the pope, took his leave
of him, and received his benediction.

From this moment all is wrapped in mystery and darkness, like that in
which the terrible deed was done that we are now to relate.

This, however, is what is believed.

The Duke of Gandia, when he quitted Caesar, sent away his servants, and
in the company of one confidential valet alone pursued his course towards
the Piazza della Giudecca. There he found the same man in a mask who had
come to speak to him at supper, and forbidding his valet to follow any
farther, he bade him wait on the piazza where they then stood, promising
to be on his way back in two hours' time at latest, and to take him up as
he passed. And at the appointed hour the duke reappeared, took leave
this time of the man in the mask, and retraced his steps towards his
palace. But scarcely had he turned the corner of the Jewish Ghetto, when
four men on foot, led by a fifth who was on horseback, flung themselves
upon him. Thinking they were thieves, or else that he was the victim of
some mistake, the Duke of Gandia mentioned his name; but instead of the
name checking the murderers' daggers, their strokes were redoubled, and
the duke very soon fell dead, his valet dying beside him.

Then the man on horseback, who had watched the assassination with no sign
of emotion, backed his horse towards the dead body: the four murderers
lifted the corpse across the crupper, and walking by the side to support
it, then made their way down the lane that leads to the Church of Santa
Maria-in-Monticelli. The wretched valet they left for dead upon the
pavement. But he, after the lapse of a few seconds, regained some small
strength, and his groans were heard by the inhabitants of a poor little
house hard by; they came and picked him up, and laid him upon a bed,
where he died almost at once, unable to give any evidence as to the
assassins or any details of the murder.

All night the duke was expected home, and all the next morning; then
expectation was turned into fear, and fear at last into deadly terror.
The pope was approached, and told that the Duke of Gandia