The marriage was but a brief break in evil associations, for the boy returned to his boon-companions in the city, and the girl sought the solace of her lovers.  It was in vain the Grand Duke pointed out the errors of their ways—­Piero retorted with a “Tu quoque frater!” He had every bit as much right to console himself with a mistress, one or more, as Francesco did with his “Cosa Bianca!” Moreover, he became urgent in his demand for a still more liberal allowance, which the Grand Duke weakly conceded—­as he had done in the case of his other grasping brother, the Cardinal.

Everything and everybody at the Court of Florence seemed to be demented.  To enjoy the basest pleasures and to indulge in the foulest passions, such was the way of the world; and Eleanora was but a child in years, but a woman in experience—­and that experience not for the honour of her life, alas!  Sinned against, she sinned like the rest.  How could a lovely, talented, warm-hearted girl, with the hot blood of Spanish passion coursing through her veins, resist the admiration, the flattery, and the embraces of the gay young cavaliers of the Court?  She merely followed the vogue, she was no recluse; and when, in 1575, she was enrolled as a “Soul” in the Accademia degli Elevati, she assumed the name of “Ardente”—­a true title—­a correct epithet!

One of the captains of the palace guard—­himself a remarkably handsome and gallant soldier—­Francesco Gaci, had a prepossessing young son, Alessandro, a cadet of the same regiment, who fell violently in love with Don Piero’s fascinating young wife.  Unable to restrain his boyish ardour, one day he seized Donna Eleanora’s hand, covered it with kisses, and professed himself ready to die for love of her.  The Princess, pining for love, looked with favour upon her infatuated lover, and granted him something of what he wished.

Alas, for love’s young dream!  The Grand Duke caught wind of it, and without making much ado, promptly stopped the intrigue.  Alessandro Gaci was removed summarily from his commission and enclosed in the monastery of Camaldoli; whilst to the Princess was administered a smart rebuke and warning.

Eleanora’s haughty spirit rose at the interference of her brother-in-law in matters of her heart, and she determined to act in opposition to his commands.  She had scarcely got off with the old love before she was on with the new.  This time she appears to have made the first advance.  At all events, in the entourage of the Grand Duchess Giovanna, was an attractive and youthful knight of the Order of St Stephen of Pisa—­Duke Cosimo’s new naval-military order.  He was a court chamberlain with the military rank of lieutenant—­Bernardino, the son of Messer Sebastiano degl’ Antinori, who had translated Boccaccio’s works for Cosimo.

The young cavaliere had the misfortune to kill, quite accidentally, in a friendly game of “Calcio,” a great friend of his—­Francesco de’ Ginori.  The game was played in presence of Princess Eleanora and many ladies of the Court.  Bernardino wore Eleanora’s favours, as he usually did, making no secret of his passion for Don Piero’s neglected, beauteous wife, and of the return of his love by his fair innamorata—­it was indeed the talk of the town.