Then his gaze
wandered back to the man who lay supported on his elbow, and he noticed
now the gold net in which his hair was coiffed, and which was by no means
common to mean folk. His little twinkling eyes turned their attention
full upon the face before him, and of a sudden a gleam of recognition
entered them. His countenance underwent a change, and from grotesque
that it had been, it became more grotesque still in its hasty assumption
of reverence.
"My Lord of Aquila!" he murmured, scrambling to his feet.
Scarcely had he got erect when a hand gripped him by the shoulder, and
Fanfulla's dagger flashed before his startled eyes.
"Swear on the cross of this, never to divulge his Excellency's presence
here, or take you the point of it in your foolish heart."
"I swear, I swear!" he cried, in fearful haste, his hand upon the hilt,
which Fanfulla now held towards him.
"Now fetch the priest, good fool," said the Count, with a smile at the
hunchback's sudden terror. "You have nothing to fear from us."
When the jester had left them to go upon his errand, Francesco turned to
his companion.
"Fanfulla, you are over-cautious," he said, with an easy smile. "What
shall it matter that I am recognised?"
"I would not 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.
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