“Whence are you?” I inquired.

“From Rome,” she informed me without hesitation, “to seek at my cousin’s Court of Pesaro shelter from a persecution to which the Borgia family is submitting me.”

At her cousin’s Court of Pesaro!  An odd coincidence, this—­and while I was pondering it, it flashed into my mind that by helping her I might assist myself.  Had aught been needed o strengthen my purpose to serve her, I had it now.

“Yet,” said I, surprise investing my voice, “at Pesaro there is Madonna Lucrezia of that same House of Borgia.”

She smiled away the doubt my words implied.

“Madonna Lucrezia is my friend,” said she; “as sweet and gentle a friend as ever woman had, and she will stand by me even against her own family.”

Since she was satisfied of that, I waived the point, and returned to what was of more immediate interest.

“And you fled,” said I, “with these?” And I indicated her attendants.  “Not content to leave the clearest of tracks behind you in the snow, you have had yourself attended by four grooms in the livery of Santafior.  So that by asking a few questions any that were so inclined might follow you with ease.”

She opened wide her eyes at that.  Oftentimes have I observed that it needs a fool to teach some elementary wisdom to the wise ones of this world.  I leapt from my saddle and stood in the road beside her, the bridle on my arm.

“Listen now, Madonna.  If you would make good your escape it first imports that you should rid yourself of this valiant escort.  Separate from it for a little while.  Take you my horse—­it is a very gentle beast, and it wilt carry you with safety—­and ride on, alone, to Cagli.”

“Alone?” quoth she, in some surprise.

“Why, yes,” I answered gruffly.  “What of that?  At the Inn of ’The Full Moon’ ask for the hostess, and tell her that you are to await an escort there, begging her, meanwhile, to place you under her protection.  She is a worthy soul, or else I do not know one, and she will befriend you readily.  But see to it that you tell her nothing of your affairs.”

“And then?” she inquired eagerly.

“Then, wait you there until to-night, or even until to-morrow morning, for these knaves to rejoin you to the end that you may resume your journey.”

“But we—­” began Giacopo.  Scenting his protest, I cut him short.

“You four,” said I, “shall escort me—­for I shall replace Madonna in the litter—­you shall escort me towards Fabriano.  Thus shall we draw the pursuit upon ourselves, and assure your lady a clear road of escape.”

They swore most roundly and with great circumstance of oaths that they would lend themselves to no such madness, and it took me some moments to persuade them that I was possessed of a talisman that should keep us all from harm.

“Were it otherwise, dolts, do you think I should be eager to go with you?  Would any chance wayfarer so wantonly imperil his neck for the sake of a lady with whom he can scarce be called acquainted?”