“Yes,” the Duke replied, “toss me over my lovers’ gloves, for I am about to see my lady!”

Snatching a cloak, lined with fur, and grasping a light sword in his hand, Alessandro left the palace by the garden wicket, followed by his valet and two secret guards, Giomo da Carpi, and an Hungarian wrestler nicknamed “Bobo.”

Meanwhile Lorenzino had sought the street, and at the corner he found his usual attendant, Michaele del Tovallaccino, a soldier possessed of a splendid physique, combining the soft contour of Apollo and the brute force of Hercules.  His comrades called him “Scoronconcolo,” on account of his wild, lustful nature.  “He could kiss and bite,” they said, “at the same time!”

“Michaele,” said Lorenzino, “I want you to kill the man who is my greatest enemy.”

“My lord,” replied the ruffian, “I am at your service.  Tell me the name of the fellow who has wronged you and I will kill him right off.  I would kill Jesus Christ himself if he hated you!”

“Stay at your post and I will return for you presently,” said Lorenzino, going on to his own house across the way.

In the Piazza San Marco he overtook Alessandro, who dismissed his attendants, and went on alone with his cousin.  In Lorenzino’s chamber was a good fire, and Alessandro, complaining of the heat, loosened his attire and removed his sword, handing it to Lorenzino, who deftly entangled the sash and belt in the hilt and placed it upon the bed.

“Where is Caterina?” inquired the Duke.  “Why is she not here?”

“She is quite ready,” was the reply, “and only awaits me to conduct her hither.”

“Go at once and delay not!” cried Alessandro.

Locking the door from without, and putting the key in his pocket, Lorenzino hastened to Michaele.

This “Caterina” was Caterina Ginori, Lorenzino’s mother’s sister.  Forced by her father, Paolo d’Antonio de’ Soderini, to renounce her lover, Luigi degli Alamanni, and to marry Leonardo de’ Ginori—­a disreputable spendthrift and gambler, who fled to Naples to escape his creditors—­she attracted the notice of Duke Alessandro.  She was as accomplished as she was beautiful and very commanding in appearance, the mother of Bartolommeo, the giant manhood model of Giovanni da Bologna for his famous “Youth, Manhood, and Age,” miscalled “The Rape of the Sabines,” in the Loggia de’ Lanzi.

At the rendezvous Lorenzino slapped Michaele upon the shoulder.  “Brother,” he said, “the moment has arrived.  I have locked my enemy in my room.  Come on, now is your opportunity.”  “March!” was the ruffian’s terse reply.

“Don’t fear to strike,” said Lorenzino, as they strode on side by side.  “Strike hard, and if the man should seek to defend himself, strike still harder.  I trust you.”

“Never you fear, my lord, were the man to swear he was the Duke or the Devil, it matters not.  Strike I will, and hard.”

Mounting the stairs quietly, Lorenzino opened the door of his apartment softly, and there lay Alessandro, fast asleep upon the bed, with his face to the wall.  Coward, as he was wont to call himself, he no longer feared to slay the “Tyrant of his People,” but whipping out his sword, not waiting for Michaele’s attack, he thrust it right through the Duke’s back!