my roof that the thing befell, for all that I knew nothing of
it."

Upon being pressed by Paolo to tell them more, he parted with the
information that the unfortunate in question was Urbino's jester Peppe.
At that, Paolo's glance became more intent. The memory of his meeting
with the fool and his mistress in the woods, a month ago, flashed now
across his mind, and it came to him that he could rightly guess the
source whence his cousin had drawn the information that had led to his
own arrest and banishment.

"Of what nature was the outrage?" he inquired.

"From what Peppe himself has told me it would seem that the fool was
possessed of some knowledge which Gian Maria sought, but on which Peppe
was bound by oath to silence. Gian Maria caused him to be secretly taken
and carried off from Urbino. His sbirri brought the fellow here, and to
make him speak the Duke improvised in his bedchamber a tratta di corde,
which had the desired result."

The Count's face grew dark with anger. "The coward!" he muttered. "The
dastardly craven!"

"But bethink you, sir Count," exclaimed Valdicampo, "that this poor
Peppe is a frail and deformed creature, lacking the strength of an
ordinary man, and do not judge him over-harshly."

"It was not of him I spoke," replied Francesco, "but of my cousin, that
cowardly tyrant, Gian Maria Sforza. Tell me, Messer Valdicampo--what has
become of Ser Peppe?"

"He is still here. I have had him tended, and his condition is already
much improved. It will not be long ere he is recovered, but for a few
days yet his arms will remain almost useless. They were all but torn
from his body."

When the meal was done Francesco begged his host to conduct him to
Peppe's chamber. This Valdicampo did, and leaving Fanfulla in the
company of the ladies of his house, he escorted the Count to the room
where the poor, ill-used hunchback was abed tended by one of the women
of Valdicampo's household.

"Here is a visitor to see you, Ser Peppe," the old gentleman announced,
setting down his candle on a table by the bed. The jester turned his
great head towards the newcomer's, and sought with melancoly eyes the
face of his visitor. At sight of him a look of terror spread itself upon
his countenance.

"My lord," he cried, struggling into a sitting posture, "my noble,
gracious lord, have mercy on me. I could tear out this craven tongue of
mine. But did you know what agonies I suffered, and to what a torture
they submitte