It was long ere his breast again knew the tranquillity of that evening. On hearing the fatal news, he remained for a few moments absorbed in thought; then striking the table with his hand, he exclaimed, "I fear I shall find myself betrayed." Within four hours he had bid a touching but manly farewell to his court and people, cheering their despondency with the hope of better days, and had passed a secret postern of his palace, carrying with him a few papers, some money and jewels.[*293] Those who have experienced the difficulty, delay, and fatigue of penetrating the rugged country between his capital and S. Leo, may form some idea of the risks and sufferings of his midnight flight among these sierras,

"As one
That makes no pause, but presses on his road
Whate'er betide him."

But when the aggravations to a constitution broken by gout are considered, his surviving the exertion must seem almost miraculous. Two of his attendants were his favourite Giovanni Andrea, and Cathelan, his first chamberlain, the latter of whom, when hard pressed at the Borello, fell behind, and allowed himself to be taken and plundered, pretending to be the Duke, a device which slackened the pursuit, and enabled his master to escape.

At the court of his brother-in-law, Francesco Marquis of Mantua, he found the hospitable shelter which his wearied frame so much needed after this tumult of exhausting incidents; and, in the society of his beloved wife,

"Whose worthy words him seemed due recompense
For all his passed pains,"

he cheerfully practised those lessons of contentment and philosophy with which, in brighter days, he had disciplined his mind. When a brief delay had given time for the Cardinal della Rovere to interpose with Louis in his behalf, Guidobaldo sought that monarch at Milan, and reminding him of his pledged protection, stated his grievances and besought redress. But state policy is ever selfish. Mutual interests rendered the close alliance of his Christian Majesty with the Borgia of primary importance to the unscrupulous ambition of both, and the outraged Duke of Urbino's appeals were responded to by cold generalities. Turning to his old allies, the Venetians, he repaired to their capital; and although they dared not resort to active measures in his behalf, situated as they were between two such formidable powers as Louis and Valentino, he received with them a cordial welcome, and enjoyed from their hospitality an honourable retirement, and an allowance of thirty pounds of gold a month, until time had given a favourable turn to the wheel of his fortune.

An impression has arisen among the historians of these transactions, founded perhaps on a passage in Bembo's gossiping discourse,[294] that, either seriously, or as a temporary security from Borgia's murderous agents, the Duke, while at Milan, declared his impotency, and held out the hope that, should the Pope on this ground dissolve his marriage, and confer on him a cardinal's hat, his duchess might marry Cesare, now a widower. The whole story is apocryphal, and the character of the Duke and Duchess prevent our crediting that such an expedient could be seriously proposed or sanctioned by either of them. It is, however, casually mentioned by Machiavelli as a rumour, at the time of Guidobaldo's second withdrawal from his state in the following year.

The night of the Duke's flight was one of lamentation and panic in Urbino. To the grief with which the inhabitants saw their beloved sovereign driven into unmerited exile quickly succeeded anxiety for themselves. The dismay attendant upon a dreaded invasion was augmented by the well-known blood-thirsty rapacity of Borgia and of his ferocious soldiery. Abandoned to their resources, each acted upon his own plan. Some hurried their women and valuables out of the city, in hopes of reaching, among the neighbouring villages, or even at Pesaro, a safe retreat from the horrors of conquest; others sought to conceal their treasures. Many fiercely ran to arms; more resigned themselves to wretched forebodings. At length, with returning light, order and confidence were in some degree restored by the energy of the magistrates, who forbade all tumult or attempts at defence on pain of instant punishment.

Valentino, after a brief halt at Cagli, hurried his troops towards Urbino, and by sunrise was before its gates. Devoted to "the pomp and circumstance of glorious war," he entered the city in gorgeous armour on a beautiful charger, followed by his lances and men-at-arms, caparisoned as for a tournament, their parti-coloured plumes and glittering mail bearing no signs of a hurried march. He was met by the magistracy and principal inhabitants, who surrendered to him the town and citadel without any show of resistance; and his first act was to behead Pier-Antonio, a confidant of the Duke, who, at his instigation, had persuaded his master to grant the successive demands of the usurper, and so virtually to disable himself from defence, but who, by omitting to secure Guidobaldo's person, earned the vengeance of his seducer. After seizing several who were notoriously attached to the legitimate dynasty, he sought repose in the palace, where he found, and at once removed to Forlì, a vast amount of plate, tapestry, books, and other valuables, estimated by Sanuto at above 150,000 ducats, a sum now equal to perhaps a quarter of a million sterling. His orders against plundering were ill observed; and it was not till after much damage had been done by his troops, to property both of the Duke and of the citizens, that he marched them to Fermignano, a village at some distance, where their rapine was indulged without check.[*295] The various communities of the state, finding themselves in the enemy's hands, sent in their adherence; the only exceptions were S. Leo and Maiuolo: the latter speedily surrendered; the former was gained by treachery, as we shall hereafter see. Camerino was likewise reduced within a month, and Giulio Cesare Varana, its brave lord, was soon after strangled by Borgia's order, in daring breach of the terms and assurances he had received, his eldest son Venanzio, with two natural brothers, sharing his fate. Adding sacrilege to murder, the usurper carried off from the monastery of Sta. Chiara, at Urbino, Elisabetta Malatesta, the widowed sister of Guidobaldo, a lady whose mature years might have protected her from outrage, and who was released by an exchange of prisoners only on her brother's first return.[296]

We here once more draw upon Capello's Venetian relation for some notice of the monster, whose misdoings have thus gradually become bound up in our narrative. To that ambassador of the Republic, Duke Valentino appeared quite as much feared as he was loved by his father, who grumbled at his regal prodigality, more than at his own favourite Perotto being stabbed by him under his very mantle, while the life-blood spurted into his face. Tall and well made, surpassing in personal advantages even the handsome Ferdinand of Naples, he prided himself on having slain six wild boars with the lance while on horseback, striking the head off one at a blow, to the wonder of all Rome, "so that the whole town trembled lest it should be their turn next to test the temper of his steel."