However it may have been, Ludovico had relegated his nephew, now too weak
to busy himself henceforward with the affairs of his duchy, to the castle
of Pavia, where he lay and languished under the eyes of his wife
Isabella, daughter of King Ferdinand of Naples.

As to Ludovico, he was an ambitious man, full of courage and astuteness,
familiar with the sword and with poison, which he used alternately,
according to the occasion, without feeling any repugnance or any
predilection for either of them; but quite decided to be his nephew's
heir whether he died or lived.

Florence, although she had preserved the name of a republic, had little
by little lost all her liberties, and belonged in fact, if not by right,
to Piero dei Medici, to whom she had been bequeathed as a paternal legacy
by Lorenzo, as we have seen, at the risk of his soul's salvation.

The son, unfortunately, was far from having the genius of his father: he
was handsome, it is true, whereas Lorenzo, on the contrary, was
remarkably ugly; he had an agreeable, musical voice, whereas Lorenzo had
always spoken through his nose; he was instructed in Latin and Greek, his
conversation was pleasant and easy, and he improvised verses almost as
well as the so-called Magnificent; but he was both ignorant of political
affairs and haughtily insolent in his behaviour to those who had made
them their study. Added to this, he was an ardent lover of pleasure,
passionately addicted to women, incessantly occupied with bodily
exercises that should make him shine in their eyes, above all with
tennis, a game at which he very highly excelled: he promised himself
that, when the period of mourning was fast, he would occupy the attention
not only of Florence but of the whole of Italy, by the splendour of his
courts and the renown of his fetes. Piero dei Medici had at any rate