The men packed the things in the basket, and Corona was helped upon her mule.  Slowly the party descended the steep path that grew broader and more practicable as they neared the bottom; there the carriage awaited her, and soon she was bowling along the smooth road towards home, leaving far behind her the mounted guards, the peasants, and her slow-paced mule.  The sun was low when the carriage rolled under the archway of Astrardente.  Sister Gabrielle said Corona looked much the better for her excursion, and she added that she must be very strong to bear such fatigue so well.  And the next day—­and for many days—­the Sister noticed the change in her hostess’s manner, and promised herself that if the Duchessa became uneasy again she would advise another day among the hills, so wonderful was the effect of a slight change from the ordinary routine of her life.

That night old Saracinesca and his son sat at dinner in a wide hall of their castle.  The faithful Pasquale served them as solemnly as he was used to do in Rome.  This evening he spoke again.  He had ventured no remark since he had informed them of the Duca d’Astrardente’s death.

“I beg your Excellencies’ pardon,” he began, adopting his usual formula of apologetic address.

“Well, Pasquale, what is it?” asked old Saracinesca.

“I did not know whether your Excellency was aware that the Duchessa d’Astrardente had been here to-day.”

“What?” roared the Prince.

“You must be mad, Pasquale?” exclaimed Giovanni in a low voice.

“I beg your Excellencies’ pardon if I am wrong, but this is how I know.  Gigi Secchi, the peasant from Aquaviva in the lower forest, brought a bag of corn to the mill to-day, and he told the miller, and the miller told Ettore, and Ettore told Nino, and Nino told—­”

“What the devil did he tell him?” interrupted old Saracinesca.

“Nino told the cook’s boy,” continued Pasquale unmoved, “and the cook’s boy told me, your Excellency, that Gigi was passing along the road to Serveti coming here, when he was stopped by a number of guardiani who accompanied a beautiful dark lady in black, who rode upon a mule, and the guardiani asked him if your Excellencies were at Saracinesca; and when he said you were, the lady gave him a coin, and turned at once and rode down the bridle-path towards Astrardente, and he said the guardiani were those of the Astrardente, because he remembered to have seen one of them, who has a scar over his left eye, at the great fair at Genazzano last year.  And that is how I heard.”

“That is a remarkable narrative, Pasquale,” answered the Prince, laughing loudly, “but it seems very credible.  Go and send for Gigi Secchi if he is still in the neighbourhood, and bring him here, and let us have the story from his own lips.”

When they were alone the two men looked at each other for a moment, and then old Saracinesca laughed again; but Giovanni looked very grave, and his face was pale.  Presently his father became serious again.