oored in the river.

This gave us such a fright that we clapped spurs to our horses and rode
with the utmost speed to Rome. But our fears having somewhat abated, we
made no report of the alarm upon our arrival, realising that we had cut
no great figure in the adventure.

The next day, my thoughts being still upon the Duke, I resolved to
execute his orders and so rode out to the Villa Madama. As I approached
what was my surprise to see descending its terraces the same man who had
accosted me near Magliana.

Monna Afra stood in the loggia watching him, her hand, lifted to her
eyes to protect them from the rays of the setting sun. I told her that I
had come from the Duke and on what errand, and presented the packet
which he had given me.

She read it attentively, and without making any objection or inquiry,
instantly brought the casket. But as she was about to unlock it
something awoke her suspicions, and examining the key more attentively
she thrust it before my eyes exclaiming, "Dog of a Christian, you have
attempted to poison me!"

It needed but a glance to show her fears well founded, for the handle of
the key once of shining copper was corroded to a virulent green, so that
it resembled a bit of antique bronze, and I comprehended that her
villain of a son had dipped the sharp-pointed crown of thorns in some
deadly acid, hoping that in exercising some force in turning the lock
she would lacerate her hand, and that he would thus compass her death.

As I remained speechless she took my condition as an evidence of guilt,
and seizing a torch which hung in a metal _torchere_, rushed upon the
terrace waving it to and fro like a fury. Though I lacked not the wit to
perceive that this was a signal of some sort, yet remembering the Duke's
orders by all means to secure the casket, I did not immediately address
myself to flight, but strove to wrest it from her by force. She,
however, opposed me in this design with all her strength, and throwing
it aside fell upon me with a most ungentle embrace, throttling me and
burying her nails in my neck.

While we struggled thus I was aware of trampling feet and saw the loggia
suddenly filled by a horde of barbarous pirates, refugee Moorish
cut-throats, who had conceived the daring design of making a descent
upon the outskirts of Rome to plunder its rich villas, and first that of
Chigi, in revenge for the chastisement received at the hands of the
Emperor.

For the moment my only tho