have it happen for a kingdom while you are so near Sant'
Angelo. The six of us who met last night are doomed--those of us who are
not dead already. For me, and for Lodi if he was not taken, there may be
safety in flight. Into the territory of Babbiano I shall never again set
foot whilst Gian Maria is Duke, unless I be weary of this world. But of
the seventh--yourself--you heard old Lodi swear that the secret could
not have transpired. Yet should his Highness come to hear of your
presence in these parts and in my company, suspicion might set him on
the road that leads to knowledge."

"Ah! And then?"

"Then?" returned the other, eyeing Francesco in surprise. "Why, then,
the hopes we found on you--the hopes of every man in Babbiano worthy of
the name--would be frustrated. But here comes our friend the fool, and,
in his wake, the friar."

Fra Domenico--so was he very fitly named, this follower of St.
Dominic--approached with a solemnity that proceeded rather from his
great girth than from any inflated sense of the dignity of his calling.
He bowed before Fanfulla until his great crimson face was hidden, and he
displayed instead a yellow, shaven crown. It was as if the sun had set,
and the moon had risen in its place.

"Are you skilled in medicine?" quoth Fanfulla shortly.

"I have some knowledge, Illustrious."

"Then see to this gentleman's wounds."

"Eh? Dio mio! You are wounded, then?" he began, turning to the Count,
and he would have added other questions as pregnant, but that Aquila,
drawing aside his hacketon at the shoulder, answered him quickly:

"Here, sir priest."

His lips pursed in solicitude, the friar would have gone upon his
knees, but that Francesco, seeing with what labour the movement must be
fraught, rose up at once.

"It is not so bad that I cannot stand," said he, submitting himself to
the monk's examination.

The latter expressed the opinion that it was nowise dangerous, however
much it might be irksome, whereupon the Count invited him to bind it up.
To this Fra Domenico replied that he had neither unguents nor linen, but
Fanfulla suggested that he might get these things from the convent of
Acquasparta, hard by, and proffered to accompany him thither.

This being determined, they departed, leaving the Count in the company
of the jester. Francesco spread his cloak, and lay down again, whilst
the fool, craving his permission to remain, disposed himself upon his
haunches like a Turk.

"Who