"This moment at 8 p.m. Her Most Serene Highness the Grand Duchess passed to another life. The present messenger awaits your Highness' orders as to the disposal of the body." "The body!" Yes, it was "the body" of as loving a woman as ever lived in Florence. She had been the most faithful of wives, the most attractive of consorts, and one of the most generous of benefactresses. It was "the body" of as unselfish a sister-in-law as any man, high or low, ever had, who strove her utmost to propitiate, screen, and honour the self-seeking brother of her husband. It was "the body" of Bianca Cappello! Ferdinando had, for years, plotted her death, and now he had accomplished his dastardly design--a design which also made him the murderer of his brother, Francesco de' Medici. To be sure, the double tragedy was adjudged no tragedy by such as waited for favours from the coming ruler, and the mysteriously sudden deaths of Francesco de' Medici and his wife Bianca were assigned to natural causes by well-paid dependants upon Ferdinando's bounty and favour. The bloodguiltiness of fratricidal Ferdinando was well whitewashed by his courtiers, and historians have painted him in colours that ill befit his character. So is history written ofttimes and again. Pope Sixtus VI. had all the gruesome circumstances placed before him, and whilst he was too weak or too cunning--it matters not which--to charge the princely murderer with his deeds, he tacitly accepted the finding of his commission of inquiry:--"Ferdinando de' Medici, Cardinal-Priest of San Giorgio, Grand Duke of Tuscany, poisoned his brother and his sister at Poggio a Caiano." Now must the story be told, gathered out of records, more or less reliable--more or less biassed. It is a story which brings a blush to the cheek and a lump in the throat, and calls forth feelings of detestation for the murderer. At the same time it is a thrilling story of a love stronger than death. * * * * * Late one dark night, in November 1563, a gondola shot out from the deep shadow of the church of Sant' Appolinare, upon the Rio della Canonica, in Venice, dipped under the Ponte del Storto, and sped its way, swiftly propelled by two stalwart boatmen. There was little use to cry out "_Leï_" or "_Stali_," for no other craft was afloat at that hour, and the gondola was unimpeded in its course. Crossing the Grand Canal the helmsman made for the Guidecca, and on past the Punta di Santa Maria, and on still, away across the wide and silent lagune, right on to Fusina, on the mainland.