the point where the Piana flows into the Po, the latter
river forming for a few miles the southern frontier of the duchy. Here
his passport had taken him safely past the customs-officer, and
following the indications of the boatman, he had found, outside the
miserable village clustered about the customs, a travelling-chaise which
brought him before the next night-fall to Monte Alloro.

Of the real danger from which this timely retreat had removed him,
Gamba's subsequent letters had brought ample proof. It was indeed mainly
against himself that both parties, perhaps jointly, had directed their
attack; designing to take him in the toils ostensibly prepared for the
Illuminati. His evasion known, the Holy Office had contented itself with
imprisoning Heiligenstern in one of the Papal fortresses near the
Adriatic, while his mistress, though bred in the Greek confession, was
confined in a convent of the Sepolte Vive and his Oriental servant sent
to the Duke's galleys. As to those suspected of affiliations with the
forbidden sect, fines and penances were imposed on a few of the least
conspicuous, while the chief offenders, either from motives of policy or
thanks to their superior adroitness, were suffered to escape without a
reprimand. After this, Gamba's letters reported, the duchy had lapsed
into its former state of quiescence. Prince Ferrante had been seriously
ailing since the night of the electrical treatment, but the Pope having
sent his private physician to Pianura, the boy had rallied under the
latter's care. The Duke, as was natural, had suffered an acute relapse
of piety, spending his time in expiatory pilgrimages to the various
votive churches of the duchy, and declining to transact any public
business till he should have compiled with his own hand a calendar of
the lives of the saints, with the initial letters painted in miniature,
which he designed to present to his Holiness at Easter.

Meanwhile Odo, at Monte Alloro, found himself in surroundings so
different from those he had left that it seemed incredible they should
exist in the same world. The Duke of Monte Alloro was that rare survival
of a stronger age, a cynic. In a period of sentimental optimism, of
fervid enthusiasms and tearful philanthropy, he represented the
pleasure-loving prince of the Renaissance, crushing his people with
taxes but dazzling them with festivities; infuriating them by his
disregard of the public welfare, but fascinating them by his go