very Gate---called of San Bacolo--and consisted of four detruncated human
heads.

The sight of those dead faces grinning horribly, their long, matted hair
fluttering like rags in the April breeze, had arrested Francesco's
attention as he drew nigh. But when presently he came nearer and looked
with more intentness, a shudder of recognition ran through him, and a
great horror filled his soul and paled his cheek. The first of those
heads was that of the valiant and well-named Ferrabraccio; the next that
of Amerino Amerini; and the other two, those of his captured companions
on that night at Sant' Angelo.

So it would seem that Gian Maria had been busy during the week that was
sped, and that there, on the walls of Babbiano, lay rotting the only
fruits which that ill-starred conspiracy was likely to bear.

For a second it entered his mind to turn back. But his stout and
fearless nature drove him on, all unattended as he was, and in despite of
such vague forebodings as beset him. How much, he wondered, might Gian
Maria know of his own share in that mountain meeting, and how would it
fare with him if his cousin was aware that it had been proposed to the
Count of Aquila to supplant him?

He was not long, however, in learning that grounds were wanting for such
fears as he had entertained. Gian Maria received him with even more than
wonted welcome, for he laid much store by Francesco's judgment and was in
sore need of it at present.

Francesco found him at table, which had been laid for him amidst the
treasures of art and learning that enriched the splendid Palace library.