House and Garden 
the Duke, when a knock was heard at the 
street door. The maid, before pulling the 
string that would lift the latch, asked who was 
there; the voice of her mistress’ stepson re¬ 
assured her and she opened. Bartolommeo’s 
part in the tragedy was now played. It was 
not he, but the two bravi who rushed up the 
stairs, dashed past the terrified servant into 
the room where poor Caterina stood alone and 
defenceless, for the two young men who had 
been with her had lied at the first sound. In 
a moment the assassins had struck her down. 
Across the narrow street, from a window 
opposite, as they declared in their evidence 
at the trial, those two young men who had not 
lifted a finger to save her, watched the murder 
of Caterina. They saw her head cut off, saw 
the lovely body being mutilated, and then that 
something had interrupted the ghastly work, 
for suddenly, shouldering the body and carry¬ 
ing the head with them, the murderers fled. 
Next morning was the first day of the New 
Year. It was a festa and to be kept in becom¬ 
ing wise at the villa on the hill. No doubt 
Jacopo meant that it should not pass without 
his feasting his eyes on the sweet face of his 
lovely mistress. It was a jesta and he must 
wear full dress and with it the wide lace collar 
of the period. That morning the Duchess 
saw to this herself. The basket in which 
these laces were spread was sent to him from 
her apartment; it was placed beside him by 
one of her women. No presentiment of the 
horror that lay concealed under those fair 
laces warned him. He lifted them up and 
there before his horror-struck eyes lay the 
beautiful face of which he had but then been 
dreaming. The head severed from the trunk 
was cushioned in its wealth of ruddy hair 
which had been so arranged as to hide the 
ghastly wound. The Duchess had herself 
seen to this. She was not jealous of the dead. 
A trial followed, but as an Italian historian 
says: “As usual, the web of justice only 
caught flies.’’ The Duchess sought safety in 
her father’s palace at Massa. 1 he assassins 
escaped. Bartolommeo Canacci, perhaps the 
least gudty of all, was executed on the gates of 
the Bargello and then the matter was forgot¬ 
ten. But the fair Catherine still haunts the 
villa. Some nights in the year a strange 
sound, as of something rolling on the floor, is 
heard. It is said to be her head, which was 
never found and whose burial place is not 
known. In the “ Libro del Morti dell’ Arte 
del Medici e Spezialt,” there is an entry dated 
January 2nd, 1633, which says “Maria Cate¬ 
rina di Giustino Canacci trovatasi in Arno, 
senza testa e rnanco una coscia, seppellita in 
Santa Lucia sul Prato a di 2.’’ 
Veronica Cybo lived to a good old age and 
died in Rome. Whether she and her husband 
ever forgot and forgave we do not know. Prob¬ 
ably they did. Jacopo Salviati seems to have 
continued to live in friendly relations with her 
family, for in 1659 he entertained her brother, 
Cardinal Alderano, up at the villa. It con¬ 
tinued to belong to the Salviati until 1844, 
when the three grandsons and heirs of the 
Duchessa Anna Salviati, widow of Prince 
Marc’ Antonio Borghese, sold it to Mr. Van- 
sittart, an Englishman. More than twenty 
years after it was bought by the Marchese di 
Candia (Mario) and his wife Grisi. 
Later on a Dane, Mr. Hagermann, pur¬ 
chased the property, and in June, 1902, his 
heirs sold it to Signor Turri, its present pro¬ 
prietor. 
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