ey never doubted that mine was the body
that had gone down. They heard the rapid hoof-beats of my approach, yet,
they never turned their heads to ascertain whether they might not be
mistaken in their firm conviction that it was Messer Stefano who was
joining them.

I kissed my blade for luck, and drove it straight and full into the back
of the fellow on Madonna Paola's right. He cried out, essayed to turn
in his saddle that he might deal with this unlooked-for assailant, then,
overcome, he lurched forward on to the withers of his horse and thence
rolled over, and was dragged away at the gallop, his foot caught in a
stirrup, by the suddenly startled brute he rode.

So far things had gone with an amazing and delightful ease. If only the
last of them had had the amiability to be intimidated by my prowess and
to have taken to his heels, I might have issued from that contest with
the unscathed glory of a very Mars. But from his throat there came, in
answer to his comrade's cry, a roar of rage. He fell back from Madonna,
and wheeled his horse to come at me, drawing his sword as he advanced.

"Ride on, Madonna," I shouted. "I will rejoin you presently."

The fellow laughed, a mighty ugly and discomposing laugh, which may or
may not have shaken her faith in my promise to rejoin her. It certainly
went near to shaking mine. However, she displayed a presence of mind
full worthy of the haughtiness and ingratitude of which she had showed
herself capable. She urged her mule forward, and, so, left him a clear
road to attack me. I made a mistake then that went mighty near to
costing me my life. I paused to twist my cloak about my left arm
intending to use it as a buckler. Had I but risked the arm itself, all
unprotected, in that task, it may well be that it had served me better.
As it was, my preparations were far from complete when already he was
upon me, with the result that the waving slack of my cloak was in my way
to hamper and retard the movements of my arm.

His sword leapt at me, a murderous blue-white flash of moonlit steel.
I put up my half-swaddled arm to divert the thrust, holding my dagger
ready in my right, and gripping my mule with all the strength of my
two knees. I caught the blade, it is true, and turned aside the stroke
intended for my heart. But the slack of the cloak clung to the neck of
my mule, so that I could not carry my arm far enough to send his point
clear of my body. It took me in the shoulder, stinging