olano, who was
riding with the ears of his mule in line with my saddle-bow, and asked
him to point out to me where my dominions ended.

The meek question provoked an astonishingly churlish answer. I was
shortly bidden to give my mind to other than worldly things; and with
that he began a homily, which lasted for many a weary mile, upon the
vanities of the world and the glories of Paradise--a homily of the very
tritest, upon subjects whereupon I, myself, could have dilated to better
purpose than could His Ignorance.

The distance from Mondolfo to Piacenza is a good eight leagues, and
though we had set out very early, it was past noon before we caught our
first glimpse of the city by the Po, lying low as it does in the vast
Aemilian plain, and Arcolano set himself to name to me this church and
that whose spires stood out against the cobalt background of the sky.

An hour or so after our first glimpse of the city, our weary beasts
brought us up to the Gate of San Lazzaro. But we did not enter, as I
had hoped. Messer Arcolano had had enough of me and my questions at
Mondolfo, and he was not minded to expose himself to worse behaviour on
my part in the more interesting thoroughfares of this great city.

So we passed it by, and rode under the very walls by way of an avenue
of flowering chestnuts, round to the northern side, until we emerged
suddenly upon the sands of Po, and I had my first view at close quarters
of that mighty river flowing gently about the islands, all thick with
willows, that seemed to float upon its gleaming waters.

Fishermen were at work in a boat out in mid-stream, heaving their nets
to the sound of the oddest cantilena, and I was all for pausing there
to watch their operations. But Arcolano urged me onward with that
impatience of his which took no account of my very natural curiosity.
Presently I drew rein again with exclamations of delight and surprise to
see the wonderful bridge of boats that spanned the river a little higher
up.

But we had reached our destination. Arcolano called a halt at the gates
of a villa that stood a little way back from the road on slightly rising
ground near the Fodesta Gate. He bade one of the grooms get down and
open, and presently we ambled up a short avenue between tall banks of
laurel, to the steps of the villa itself.

It was a house of fair proportions, though to me at the time, accustomed
to the vast spaces of Mondolfo, it seemed the merest hut. It was painte