stirrup. At last, when they had covered a half-mile in this fashion, and
the going had grown easier, they halted that the Count might mount behind
his companion, and as they now rode along at an easier pace Francesco
realised that he and Fanfulla were the only two that had come through
that ugly place. The gallant Ferrabraccio, hero of a hundred strenuous
battles, had gone to the ignoble doom which half in jest he had
prophesied himself. His horse had played him false at the outset of the
charge, and taking fright it had veered aside despite his efforts to
control it, until, losing its foothold, man and beast had gone hurtling
over the cliff. Amerini, Fanfulla had seen slain, whilst the remaining
two, being both unhorsed, would doubtless be the prisoners of Masuccio.

Some three miles beyond Sant' Angelo, Fanfulla's weary horse splashed
across a ford of the Metauro, and thus, towards the second hour of night,
they gained the territory of Urbino, where for the time they might hold
themselves safe from all pursuit.




CHAPTER III

SACKCLOTH AND MOTLEY


The fool and the friar had fallen a-quarrelling, and--to the shame of the
friar and the glory of the fool be it spoken--their subject of contention
was a woman. Now the friar, finding himself no match for the fool in
words, and being as broad and stout of girth and limb as the other was
puny and misshapen, he had plucked off his sandal that with it he might