The eloquent disciple of the Platonic Academy suddenly found himself involved in a love adventure that was only too real. ‘Count Giovanni della Mirandola,’ wrote the Ferrarese envoy Aldovrandino Guidoni on May 12, 1486, to Duke Ercole,[78] ‘has been living for nearly two years in such splendour and in the enjoyment of such universal esteem as has hardly fallen to the lot of any one before in this city. A few days ago he gave out that he was going to Rome, and sent forward all his luggage. On his arrival at Arezzo, where resided a lady with whom he had a love affair—the beautiful wife of one Giuliano de’ Medici, engaged in the administration of taxes there—the said lady, according to previous agreement, left her husband’s house. She pretended to be going for a walk, but just outside the town she mounted behind the count. He had about twenty people with him, some on horseback, some on foot, besides two mounted bowmen. When the people saw the lady surrounded by this train there was an uproar. The storm-bell was rung and the count was followed in pursuit, which became so hot that the count was obliged to give up his fugitive. Every one of his suite that could be reached was killed and stripped in the _mêlée_, and many of the citizens also were left dead. Thanks to their good horses, the count and his chancellor got away to Marciano (in the valley of the Chiana), where they were arrested. The Ten, before whom the case was laid, at first gave orders to liberate the count and keep the chancellor, but afterwards they commanded both to be kept under arrest. Probably nothing will be done to him, but the chancellor—on whom the chief blame is laid—may come off badly, the more so as the matter concerns the wife of a Medici, who, though poor, is still one of the family. In truth, the count’s mishap is much to be regretted, for he used to be considered a saint as well as a man of learning, and now he has lost greatly in public opinion, though, indeed, love has brought many into like errors.’ Duke Ercole’s mediation was needless, as Pico was at once set free, and the good easy husband received back into his house the faithless wife, who pleaded forcible abduction. She was a rich young widow of low degree when he married her shortly before. Pico’s own remarks on the whole affair display his penitence. ‘His sin grieves him,’ he said of himself, ‘and he does not defend his conduct. He seems to deserve forgiveness just because he attempts no excuse. Nothing is weaker than man, nothing is mightier than love!’