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she know each glorious incident in the life of her great-grandfather, Lorenzo the Magnificent; he was Aunt Clarissa’s hero and she often compared him with Guilio de’ Medici, who now, as Pope Clement VII, was head of the family. Caterina had been shocked to hear the Holy Father spoken of with disrespect, but the greatest lesson she had had to learn was that of hiding her feelings; so Caterina listened and showed no sign of her surprise.
    Now she pushed her long fair hair back from her thin little face, and as she was about to return to her books she heard a scratching at the door, and, forgetting her dignity for a moment, she leaped up and let in Guido, a spaniel with adoring brown eyes. She had two of them― Fedo and Guido― and only
    these two living beings knew her as a little girl who sometimes liked to romp and laugh more loudly than would have been seemly if any but they had heard it.
    Guido was frightened. He cowered against her and licked her hand. He had
    the air of a dog who has escaped some terrible fate, but who knows his escape to be temporary. She guessed at once that the pursuer was Alessandro― the boy who called himself her brother and whom she called The Moor. He loved
    nothing better than to maltreat dogs and young serving boys and girls, any of whom he could torture without bringing trouble on himself. One day he would, she guessed, try to have similar fun with grown-up people.
    She put a hand down to the dog and fondled his silky coat. She would have liked to have knelt on the floor and flung her arms about him. But the idea of Caterina of the house of Medici stooping to caress a dog in a room where she might be discovered must be immediately dismissed.
    She had been right. It was Alessandro who had been chasing the dog, for he now pushed open the door and came into the room. He shut the door and leaned against it, looking at Caterina while the dog tried to hide behind his mistress’
    feet; and Caterina, giving no sign of the violent beating of her heart, lifted her eyes to look at Alessandro.
    They called him a Medici! Why, why, Caterina asked herself passionately,
    had her noble father gone about the world, planting his seed in such ignoble ground! How could he have loved the low Barbary slave who must have been
    Alessandro’s mother? But evidently he had, if only for a short while, since Alessandro was here in the palace with her― her half-brother. The Pope insisted that he should live here, although Aunt Clarissa would have gladly turned him into the streets. A bastard, by good fortune; for what if he had been her legitimate brother? But no! Noble blood could never produce that low brow with the dark hair growing down almost to the eyebrows, that short, broad nose, that vicious mouth, those lecherous protruding eyes. Caterina would have been
    terrified Alessandro if she had not known herself safe from his vicious ways. He dared not hurt her; but he hated her all the same.
    She was the legitimate daughter; he was the illegitimate son; but the Holy Father, loving the boy though he did, would not allow harm to come, through Alessandro, to the little girl who was hope of his house. Alessandro came slowly into the room. He was fourteen at this time― eight years older than Caterina, and already showing many signs of the man he would become.
    The dog whimpered.
    ‘Be silent, Guido,’ said Caterina, and kept her eyes fixed on her half-
    brother’s face.
    ‘The brute escaped me!’ said Alessandro.
    ‘I rejoice to hear it,’ retorted Caterina.
    ‘He knows not what is good for him, that dog. I was going to feed him.’
    Alessandro laughed and showed teeth like those of a rat. ‘I had prepared a delicacy for him― all for him.’
    ‘You shall not harm my dog,’ said Caterina.
    ‘Harm him? I tell you I would have fed the brute.’
    ‘You would only give him food that would harm him!’ Her eyes flashed, for alone with Alessandro she would not consider her dignity; she would not smile when