thought I heard a sound of marching in the
distance."

"The wind in the trees, Peppino," explained Fanfulla.

"I do not think----" He stopped short and listened and now they all
heard it, for it came wafted to them on a gust of the fitful breeze that
smote their faces.

"You are right," said Francesco. "It is the tramp of men. But what
of that, Peppe? Men will march in Italy. Let us hear the end of your
story."

"But who should march in Urbino, and by night?" the fool persisted.

"Do I know or do I care?" quoth the Count. "Your story, man."

For all that he was far from satisfied, the fool resumed his narrative.
But he no longer told it with his former irresistible humour. His mind
was occupied with that sound of marching, which came steadily nearer.
At length he could endure it no longer, and the apathy of his companions
fired him openly to rebel.

"My lord," he cried, turning to the Count, and again leaving his story
interrupted, "they are all but upon us."

"True!" agreed Francesco indifferently. "The next turn yonder should
bring us into them."

"Then I beg you, Lord Count, to step aside. Let us pause here, under
the trees, until they have passed. I am full of fears. Perhaps I am a
coward, but I mislike these roving night-hands. It may be a company of
masnadieri."

"What then?" returned the Count, without slackening speed. "What cause
have we to fear a party of robbers?"

But Fanfulla and the servants joined their advice to Peppe's, and
prevailed at last upon Francesco to take cover until this company should
have passed. He consented, to pacify them, and wheeling to the right
they entered the border of the forest, drawing rein well in the shadow,
whence they could survey the road and see who passed across the patch
of moonlight that illumined it. And presently the company came along
and swung into that revealing flood of light. To the astonishment of
the watchers they beheld no marauding party such as they had been led to
expect, but a very orderly company of some twenty men, soberly arrayed
in leather hacketons and salades of bright steel, marching sword
on thigh and pike on shoulder. At the head of this company rode a
powerfully-built man on a great sorrel horse, at sight of whom the
fool swore softly in astonishment. In the middle of the party came four
litters borne by mules, and at the side of one of them rode a slender,
graceful figure that provoked from Peppe a second oath. But the
profoundest