now in earnest of the snug warmth within. Silence reigned, broken only
by the moan of the wind under the eaves, for although it was no more
than approaching the second hour of night, yet who but the wight whom
necessity compelled would be abroad in such weather?

All night I rode despite that weather's foulness--a foulness that might
have given pause to one whose haste to bear a letter was less attuned to
his own supreme desires.

Betimes next morning I paused at a small locanda on the road to
Magliano, and there I broke my fast and took some rest. My horse had
suffered by the journey more than had I, and I would have taken a fresh
one at Magliano, but there was none to be had--so they told me--this
side of Narni, wherefore I was forced to set out once more upon that
poor jaded beast that had carried me all night.

It was high noon when I came, at last, to Narni, the last league of the
journey accomplished at a walk, for my nag could go no faster. Here I
paused to dine, but here, again, they told me that no horses might be
had. And so, leading by the bridle the animal I dared no longer ride,
lest I should kill it outright, I entered the territory of Urbino on
foot, and trudged wearily amain through the snow that was some inches
deep by now. In this miserable fashion I covered the seven leagues, or
so, to Spoleto, where I arrived exhausted as night was falling.

There, at the Osteria del Sole, I supped and lay. I found a company of
gentlemen in the common-room, who upon espying my motley--when I had
thrown off my sodden cloak and hat--pressed me, willy-nilly, into
amusing them. And so I spent the night at my Fool's trade, giving them
drolleries from the works of Boccacci and Sacchetti--the horn-books of
all jesters.

I obtained a fresh horse next morning, and I set out betimes, intending
to travel with a better speed. The snow was thick and soft at first, but
as I approached the hills it grew more crisp. Overhead the sky was of
an unbroken blue, and for all that the air was sharp there was warmth
in the sunshine. All day I rode hard, and never rested until towards
nightfall I found myself on the spurs of the Apennines in the
neighborhood of Gualdo, the better half of my journey well-accomplished.
The weather had changed again at sunset. It was snowing anew, and the
north wind was howling like a choir of the damned.

Before me gleamed the lights of a little wayside tavern, and since it
might suit me better to lie th