Then once more he turned to his father pleadingly, and kneeling to him, grasped his legs, imploring pardon for his crime—­for neither father nor son doubted but that Giovanni was dead.  Baring his head, and holding his arms wide apart to Heaven, the Duke appealed to God to direct his actions.  Then, turning to his son, grovelling at his feet.  “Behold, thy brother’s blood,” he cried with bitterness, “asks vengeance of God and of me, thy miserable father; and now I shall deal with thee alone.  Certainly it is a heinous crime for a father to kill his son, but it would be a still more grievous sin to spare the life of a parricide, lest he went on to exterminate his family, and lay their name in the dirt, to be execrated of all men.  I have now resolved what to do, for I would far rather live in history as a pitiless father than as an unjust Sovereign.”

The Duchess, judging that Cosimo actually intended to slay his son, and knowing how fruitless any efforts of hers would be to avert such a terrible calamity, fell upon her knees and prayed aloud to Heaven to save the poor, young boy, and spare her own broken heart.  Shutting her eyes, and covering her ears, she awaited, more dead than alive, the fall of that hand, within which was convulsively grasped a flashing poignard!

Cosimo once more prayed most earnestly to God to approve the justice of his deed, to pardon him for so executing the Divine wrath, and for peace for the souls of his young sons.  Then, bending towards the unconscious Garzia, he exclaimed, “I will have no Cain in my family,” and, at the same moment, he plunged his weapon into the heart of his boy.

With a last despairing shriek Garzia fell away, crying, as he expired, the one word “Mother!”

The Duchess also lay upon the grass, still as death; indeed, her heart had stopped its beat when Cosimo raised her, and bid her sternly to act the woman.  She was speechless and demented, and at the sight of her dear son’s crimson blood colouring the fresh verdure where he had fallen, she lost her reason, and her cries and shrieks resounded through the forest.

From all sides courtiers and huntsmen appeared upon the scene.  The Duke silently waved them away, and, beckoning four of the most trusty of his retainers, he bade them pick up the dead body of the young prince and bear it after him, whilst he commanded the lacqueys to carry back the Duchess in her sedan-chair to the Castle.

Asking which way the bearers of the murdered Giovanni had taken, he ordered his own cortege to follow on to Livorno.  Arrived at the palace, the corpses of the two unfortunate young princes were arranged for burial.  Upon baring Don Garzia’s body, a fresh wound was discovered in his back, but whether by the hand of Don Giovanni no one ever knew.  This fact, however, was reported to the Duke and furnished him with a satisfactory reason for the double tragedy—­for he deemed it wiser just then that the truth should not be published!