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Updated: June 4, 2025
Oliverotto you have seen at work, making a holocaust of his family and friends under the base spur of his cupidity; whilst of the absent ones, Pandolfo Petrucci alone was a man of any steadfastness and honesty.
For Vitellozzo possessed Citta di Castello, Bentivoglio Bologna, Gian Paolo Baglioni was in command of Perugia, Oliverotto had just taken Fermo, and Pandolfo Petrucci was lord of Siena; it was high time that all these returned: into his own hands.
The little maid was on her knees, polishing the floor; Miss Prunty was scolding, dusting, ordering dinner, arranging vases, all at once; strangest of all, Madame Petrucci had taken the oil-cloth cover from her grand piano, and, seated before it, was practising her sweet and faded notes, unheedful of the surrounding din and business. "What's the matter!" cried Goneril.
Cesare Petrucci held the office of Provost of Prato for the Florentine people, at this period. It is customary with governors of towns, similarly situated, to keep the keys of the gates near their persons; and whenever, in peaceful times, they are required by any of the inhabitants, for entrance or exit, they are usually allowed to be taken.
"Some are for you and some are for Madame Petrucci." "She is a charming woman, Madame Petrucci." "A dear old lady," murmured Goneril, much more interested in her posy. "Old, do you call her?" said the signorino, rather anxiously. "I should scarcely call her that, though of course she is a good deal older than either of us." "Either of us!" Goneril looked up astounded.
"We expect the signorino," said Miss Prunty. "And is he going to stay here?" "Don't be a fool!" snapped that lady; and then she added, "Go into the kitchen and get some of the pasty and some bread and cheese there's a good girl." "All right!" said Goneril. Madame Petrucci stopped her vocalising. "You shall have all the better a dinner to compensate you, my Gonerilla!"
At last, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, Pandolfo Petrucci, who belonged to the Monte de' Nove, made himself in reality, if not in name, the master of Siena, and the Duke of Florence, later on in the same century extended his dominion over the republic.
Pandulphus Petrucci, Prince of Siena, governd his State, more with them that had been suspected by him, than with the others.
Thus the plebs forced the Bentivogli on Bologna and the Medici on Florence, and Baglioni on Perugia and the Petrucci on Siena. Perugia, for example, farmed out the tax upon her country population for 12,000 florins, upon her baking-houses for 7,266, upon her wine for 4,000, upon her lake for 5,200, upon contracts for 1,500. Two bankers accepted the Perugian loan at this price in 1388.
"Vous croyez?" fluted Madame Petrucci, with the vilest accent and the most aggravating smile imaginable. It was the one hobby of the signorino's that she regarded with disrespect. Goneril too was a little bored by the music lesson, but, on the other hand, the walks delighted her. One day Goneril was out with her friend. "Are the peasants very much afraid of you, signore?" she asked.
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