e, at least I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that he will
not be long in following me."

"May God shield you," he said fervently.

"May God speed you," I answered him, with a still greater fervour.

That night, as you may well conceive, I slept but little, and that
little ill. The morning, instead of relieving the fears that in the
darkness had been with me, seemed to increase them. For now was the time
for Mariani to act, and I was fearful as to how he might succeed. I
was full of doubts lest some obstacle should have arisen to prevent his
departure from Cesena, and I spent my morning in wearisome speculation.

I took an almost childish satisfaction in the thought that since, being
a prisoner, I could no longer count myself the Fool of the Court
of Cesena, I was free to strip the motley and assume the more sober
garments in which I had been taken, and which--as you may recall--had
been placed in my chamber on the previous evening. It was the very
plainest raiment. For doublet I wore a buff brigandine, quilted and
dagger-proof, and caught at the waist by a girdle of hammered steel; my
wine-coloured hose was stout and serviceable, as were my long boots of
untanned leather. Yet prouder was I of this sober apparel than ever king
of his ermine.

It may have been an hour or so past noon when, at last, my solitude
was invaded by a soldier who came to order me into the presence of the
Governor. I had been sitting at the window, leaning against the bars and
looking out at the desolate white landscape, for there had been a heavy
fall of snow in the night, which reminded me--as snow ever did--of my
first meeting with Madonna Paola.

I rose upon the instant, and my fears rose with me. But I kept a bold
front as I went down into the hall, where Ramiro and the blackguards of
his Court were sitting, with three or four men-at-arms at attention by
the door. Close to the pulleys appertaining to the torture of the cord
stood two leather-clad ruffians--Ramiro's executioners.

At the head of the board, which was still strewn with fragments of
food-for they had but dined--sat Ramiro del' Orca. With him were half
a dozen of his officers, whose villainous appearance pronounced them
worthy of their brutal leader. The air was heavy with the pungent odour
of viands. I looked round for Mariani, and I took some comfort from the
fact that he was absent. Might heaven please that he was even then on
his way to Faenza.

Ramiro watched