'When Madonna Isabella came forth bearing the little Francesco there was a beating of hands, a waving of caps, and a many who shed tears. "Viva Isabella of Aragon," they cried, "Viva Gian Galeazzo and his heir, our true and legitimate lord! Death to the usurpers of his throne!"'

Beatrice frowned. 'Those were the very words?'

'Ay; but there was worse.'

'Speak—fear nothing.'

'They cried—my tongue, Signora mia, refuses—but they cried "Death to the Robbers!"'

Beatrice shivered; mastering herself, however, she asked calmly, 'Was there more?'

'Of a truth, I know not how to tell it to your Excellency.'

'Haste thee, I would know all.'

'Believe me, madam, they said that the most noble duke, Ludovico il Moro, the guardian and the benefactor of Gian Galeazzo, holds his nephew in the fortress of Pavia, and surrounds him with assassins and spies. Then they demanded that the duke himself should come out to them, but Madonna Isabella answered that he lay sick.'

And again Monna Sidonia whispered in the duchess's ear.