In 1570, Cosimo went in State to Rome to be crowned by the Pope as first Grand Duke of Tuscany.  From his Holiness he obtained a reversion of the title in perpetuity for his descendants.  The Easter of that year he spent at the Pitti Palace, and then he hurried off to Castello to pass the rest of his days with his dearly-loved and charming young wife.

Once there, he dismissed almost all the members of his suite, retaining only two secretaries, a chaplain (!) and two couriers, wishing to lead the quiet life of a country gentleman.  He apportioned to his wife Cammilla four gentlewomen as maids of honour.  Henceforward neither Cosimo nor Cammilla were seen but rarely in Florence.  They spent their time together either at Castello, at Poggio a Caiano, or in Pisa.

December and May had been mated—­the former had his consolations, but the latter pined quite naturally for young society.  Love is cold and love is captious where age and temperament disagree.  Cammilla sighed for the gaieties, the pleasures, and gallantries of Florence.  Love’s young dream had not been hers, she had not chosen her ancient lover.  But admiration for her sprang from a likely though an unexpected quarter, and her cavalier was not warned off by a jealous husband, as was poor Eleanora degli Albizzi’s.

The Grand Duke Cosimo, to the very last, kept up the appearance of religion, if not its realities.  The fact that a son of his was a member of the Sacred College, and a possible occupant of the chair of St Peter, covered a multitude of sins; not that Cardinal Ferdinando was a mirror of virtue or an example of sanctity.

Ferdinando’s relations with Francesco and Bianca were as bad as could be.  His arrogance and extortions rendered his presence at the Florentine court unwelcome and even dangerous.  At Castello and Poggio a Caiano, on the other hand, he was an honoured guest, and, for lack of lovers, his young stepmother was not displeased by his attentions.  Cosimo kept her strictly in seclusion, and she had not the courage, or, be it said, the impudence of her stepdaughter, the Duchess of Bracciano.  The loves of the Cardinal and Cammilla were in secret and unprovocative; indeed, the Grand Duke encouraged the intrigue, as being “for Cammilla’s good.”

Here was a pretty state of affairs.  One son, Piero, the seducer of his mistress, Eleanora degli Albizzi, the other, Ferdinando, the lover of his wife!  It would be very difficult, perhaps impossible, to exonerate Cosimo from the blame of Cammilla’s unfaithfulness.  If she sinned, she did so helplessly.

Alas, that she listened not only to the amorous vows of Ferdinando, but also gave credence to his views concerning the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess in Florence.  She knew, of course, that there was no love lost between herself and them; and she was quite ready to entertain the evil insinuations which the late Duchess Giovanna had ventilated with reference to Bianca.