so from the danger behind us
we fled, and courted a more deadly and certain peril in the fleeing.
At first I sought to remonstrate with Giacopo; but he was deaf to the
wisdom that I spoke. He turned upon me a face which terror had rendered
whiter than its natural habit, white as the egg of a duck, with a hint
of blue or green behind it. I had, besides, an ugly impression of teeth
and eyeballs.

"Death is behind us, sir," he snarled. "Let us get on."

"Death is more assuredly before you," I answered grimly. "If you will
court it, go your way. As for me, I am over-young to break my neck
and be left on the mountain-side to fatten crows. I shall follow at my
leisure."

"Gesu!" he cried, through chattering teeth. "Are you a coward, then?"

The taunt would have angered me had his condition been other than it
was; but coming from one so possessed of the devil of terror, it did no
more than provoke my mirth.

"Come on, then, valiant runagate," I laughed at him.

And on we went, our horses now plunging, now sliding down yard upon yard
of moving snow, snorting and trembling, more reasoning far than these
rational animals that bestrode them. Twice did it chance that a man was
flung from his saddle, yet I know not what prayers Madonna may have been
uttering in her litter, to obtain for us the miracle of reaching the
plain with never so much as a broken bone.

Thus far had we come, but no farther, it seemed, was it possible to go.
The horses, which by dint of slipping and sliding had encompassed the
descent at a good pace, were so winded that we could get no more than an
amble out of them, saving mine, which was tolerably fresh.

At this a new terror assailed the timorous Giacopo. His head was ever
turned to look behind--unfailing index of a frightened spirit; his eyes
were ever on the crest of the hills, expecting at every moment to behold
the flash of the pursuers' steel. The end soon followed. He drew rein
and called a halt, sullenly sitting his horse like a man deprived of
wit--which is to pay him the compliment of supposing that he ever had
wit to be deprived of.

Instantly the curtain-rings rasped, and Madonna Paola's head appeared,
her voice inquiring the reason of this fresh delay.

Sullenly Giacopo moved his horse nearer, and sullenly he answered her.

"Madonna, our horses are done. It is useless to go farther."

"Useless?" she cried, and I had an instance of how sharply could ring
the voice that I had heard s