in-law. After it, she thought of her only as the murderer's sister, and as herself the cause of the crime, if not accessory to it.

In this frame of mind, the Cardinal's faith in Vittoria, his loyalty to her, no matter what happened, were naturally very exasperating to Camilla.

All her suspicions were confirmed by an event which took place only a few days after the murder, an event which must have been a blow even to the Cardinal's partisanship.

Vittoria disappeared from his house, and, immediately afterwards, he learnt she was with the Duke at his 'vineyard '-the Magna napoli.

Still, nothing would convince him she had had any hand in the crime; nor, except her shameless flight to her lover's arms, is there any evidence to show she had been a party to the plot.

A series of manoeuvres to prevent the Duke's marrying her now began on the part of his family: through Cardinal Medici (one of the brothers of the Duke's unfortunate first wife), the Pope was induced to issue warning after warning to prevent the marriage. The first notice simply forbade it and declared it null and void if it had already taken place. The next ordered the pair to separate, and finally Vittoria was commanded to go back to her father and never to leave the house even to hear mass.

While a show of compliance was made, all these commands were defied.

The widow went to her father's house, the Palazzo Massa, but, instead of never leaving it, employed her time in going backwards and forwards to her lover at his vineyard.'

At last the Palazzo Massa was invaded by sbirri, Vittoria was seized and forcibly carried to the Convent of St. Cecilia in Trastevere.

From there, for better security, she was presently moved to the Fortress of St. Angelo and there kept a year in prison.

Her lover meantime was not only free, but powerful at the Vatican and busy on her behalf.

One by one, through his efforts, the warnings were withdrawn, until only the prohibition of the marriage remained in force.

His tactics were to allow it to be taken for granted that he no longer intended to marry Vittoria, and that his efforts on her behalf were disinterested.

The way for her release being in this manner paved, the moment she came out of prison he married her, not once but (to make matters doubly sure) twice.

It was at the Castle of Bracciano that the second ceremony took place, and for a brief interval the pair remained there undisturbed.

With a New Year their troubles began again. Their marriage

was brought before the Roman Court, and they were ordered to part. To gain time, the Duke pledged his word that Vittoria should leave him; but he employed the respite gained to go through the marriage ceremony with her for the third time.

On the very day, 24th of March 1585, this last ceremony took place, an event was occurring in Rome that shook even Bracciano's confidence in his own invincibility.

Montalto was elected Pope as Sixtus the Fifth. The Duke had at least the courage of his deeds, and, immediately he was informed of the unexpected result of the Conclave of Cardinal electors, he hurried to Rome to be present at the reception, which, in accordance with custom, the Holy Father would hold immediately after his election was announced.

This was effrontery that scandalised even Roman society. Every one was on the watch to see how the Pope would bear himself to Bracciano. But there was little to satisfy curiosity. It was reported that the small brown eyes' flashed, but nothing more. In other respects the Pontiff's manner was strictly ceremonious.

But the Duke himself was not satisfied. It was his purpose to find out whether his position in Rome was still tenable, and, not having succeeded at the first reception, he boldly reappeared at the very next the Holy Father held.

This was too much. This time there could be no mistaking the fiery wrath of the twice insulted Pontiff.

But Bracciano offended him still more deeply through Vittoria. Not content with thrusting himself on the Pope, it was surely at his instigation that Vittoria, in spite of repeated denials, forced herself into the house she had left under circumstances so disgraceful, and into Camilla's presence. She was received with sobs, tears, and stormy reproaches.

Bracciano was now obliged so far to accept defeat that he saw the absolute necessity of flight.

The Castle of Bracciano, in his absence, had been occupied by Marcello (the murderer of Francesco) at the head of a company of bandits. For what purpose they had been assembled there was never known. They left so soon as news came from the Duke that he, Vittoria, and their household were hurrying from Rome.

Quarters so accessible from the city were no safe refuge, and a further move to Padua quickly followed; and yet another, soon after, to Salo, an estate of the Duke in Venetian territory.

In this retired place the troubled love story subsided into one of uneventful domestic life. But this unmerited and dearly bought peace only lasted a few weeks. It terminated then in the death of the Duke. He expired' we are told in the arms of his adored wife.'

Capable of this enduring adoration, there must still have been

some remnant of good even in this somewhat unsavoury hero of Vittoria's love story.

Immediately he was dead, his widow wrote to his friend and kinsman, Ludovico Orsini. He was on the point of starting for Corfu, to enter upon his office as governor of the island, but, changing his plans, he hurried to Salo.

There he made Vittoria hand over to him all her personal jewels, beside all the other valuable property in the house; and told her he intended to manage the business matters connected with the late Duke's will, under which a large proportion of the property came to Vittoria.

She made no attempt to resist, 'obeying with resignation,' we are told, and too broken-hearted to realise that, at least for the time, he was reducing her to destitution.

Terrified by his manner, she left Salo when this scene was over, to take refuge in Padua, her brothers Marcello and Flamineo accompanying her.

Here she wrote to Sixtus, on whose affection she still had reason to rely, telling him of Ludovico's conduct, and of her own situation in consequence.

Before the Pope's answer reached her she too was dead.

'In the night of December 21-22, 1585, forty of Ludovico's creatures, fantastically disguised in black, came to the Palazzo Cavalli, where Vittoria and her brothers had taken up their quarters.' 1

Twenty surrounded the house, while the rest, scaling the walls, entered. Eight of the assassins, carrying lighted torches, made their way through the long galleries and passages in search of their victims.

Flamineo 'the innocent, the young,' was playing the lute, and singing the Miserere, in the great hall of the Palace.

The murderers surprised him with a shot through the arm. Wounded and bleeding he ran, followed by the murderers, to his sister's room.

She was saying her night prayers before her crucifix; and when she turned and saw the assassins, she asked not that they would spare her life, but that she might have a few moments to prepare for a Christian death and commend her soul to God.

Even this the ruffians refused. One of them plunged his dagger into her left breast, then twisted it round in the wound and jeeringly asked her if her heart was pierced.'

The last words she spoke were, 'Jesus' and 'I forgive you.'

They next fell on Flamineo and despatched him. In his body there are said to have been counted no fewer than seventy-two wounds. 'The Paduan authorities,' says Mr. J. A. Symonds, 'identified

'See Hübner's Life of Sixtus the Fifth, and J. A. Symonds's Italian Byways.

the body of Vittoria, and of Flamineo, and sent at once to Venice for further instructions.

'Meanwhile both corpses were laid out, in one coffin, for the people to contemplate. The Palace and Church of the Eremitani, to which they were removed, were crowded all the day following with a vast concourse.

'Vittoria's wonderful dead body, pale yet sweet to look upon, the golden hair flowing round her marble shoulders, the red wound in her breast uncovered, the stately limbs arrayed in satin as she died, maddened the populace with its surpassing loveliness.

'Dentibus fremebant, they gnashed with their teeth, says the chronicle, when they beheld that gracious lady stiff in death.

'It must indeed have been an impressive spectacle. The grim, gaunt frescoes of Mantegna looked down upon her as she lay stretched on her bier, solemn, calm and, but for her pallor, beautiful as in life.' Marcello Accoramboni escaped the fate of his brother and sister to meet the reward of his crimes at the hands of justice.

Unconscious of the tragedy about to take place, he had fled from the Palazzo Cavalli, after having murdered his servant in the public bath of Padua. On this charge he was subsequently arrested, but the trial resulted in his acquittal.

Just before news of Bracciano's death reached Rome a former servant of his was arrested for some delinquency. This man, put to the question, made disclosures regarding the Duke's share in the murder of Francesco that stirred up Camilla, who had never ceased to call for justice on the murderers of her son, to renew her efforts to bring them to punishment.

The new Pope's reign had been inaugurated by a series of severe measures, directed to repress the crime and disorder that had prevailed in Rome and the surrounding country under Gregory the Thirteenth.

But, with regard to the past tragedy in his own family, Sixtus shrank from proceedings that would, he thought, look too much like personal vindictiveness.

Not until Bracciano was dead did he at length yield to his sister's demands so far as to hint to the Venetian ambassador that, although Marcello had been acquitted in the recent trial, it might be possible to arrest him again for the murder committed in Padua, and that he could be tried and punished there.

To re-arrest a man on a charge of which he had been acquitted was so totally contrary to Venetian law that the Pope's proposal was refused; finally the Seignory proposed to him to arrest the guilty man and hand him over to the Roman State.

To this Sixtus, after long hesitation, agreed, and Marcello was tried and executed at Ancona in November 1586.

Ludovico Orsini, the murderer of Vittoria and her poor young

brother, Flamineo, also suffered for his crimes. Suspicion at once fell on him and he was summoned.' But in defiance of the summons he took up his position in the Palazzo Contarini, outside Padua, fortified himself, and prepared to fight for his life.

On Christmas Day the Venetian avogador brought two pieces of artillery into position and bombarded the palace. The wall fell under this attack, burying three of the chief murderers.

Ludovico had hoped to hold out till night and to escape in the dark, but, finding this impossible, he surrendered. He took a ring off his finger and sent it to his confederates, with advice to follow his example. Then he walked out. He was attired in brown, a dagger at his side, his cloak hung gracefully over his arm.

The dagger being taken from him, he leant carelessly over a balustrade and began to trim his nails with a little pair of scissors. The Palazzo Contarini was then searched. A few men were discovered hidden in out-of-the-way corners beside arquebuses and daggers, the latter blood-stained.

An embossed silver cup, among the articles found, was afterwards produced at the trial in proof of Ludovico's guilt. It had on it the Medici arms, and was proved to have belonged to Bracciano's first wife, Isabella, and afterwards to Vittoria.

In view of the dishonour to the State, a public functionary having committed a heinous crime in one of the most important cities and fortresses belonging to Venice, sentence of death was passed on Ludovico. But, in consideration of his rank and his illustrious family, to which the State was under obligation for many services, he was spared the ignominy of public execution and was strangled in prison. His accomplices were executed in the public square of Padua.

With this scene the story of our heroine closes. In Webster's Vittoria Corambona it is surpassed in horror, but (pace the critics of that classic) in his incarnate fiends Webster misses the one touch' that in the hands of his greater forerunner would have given us human men and women of kindred nature with the race.

MARGARET MAITLAND.