to it that Boccadoro has his deserts.
Meanwhile let the suggestion of my illustrious cousin be acted upon, and
let this gifted poet be arrayed in a manner that shall sort better with
the nobility of his mind that to-night he has revealed to us."

Thus was it that I came, at last, to shed the motley and move among men
garbed as themselves. And with my outward trappings I cast off, too,
the name of Boccadoro, and I insisted upon being known again as Lazzaro
Biancomonte.

But in so far as the Court of Pesaro was concerned, this new life upon
which I was embarked was of little moment, for on the Tuesday that
followed that first Sunday in October of such momentous memory, the Lord
Giovanni's Court passed out of being.

It came about with his flight to Bologna, accompanied by the Albanian
captain and his men, as well as by several of the knights who had joined
in Sunday's fray. Ardently, as I came afterwards to learn, did he urge
Madonna Paola and her brother to go with them, and I believe that the
lady would have done his will in this had not the Lord Filippo opposed
the step. He was no warrior himself, he swore--for it was a thing he
made open boast of, affecting to despise all who followed the coarse
trade of arms--and, as for his sister, it was not fitting that she
should go with a fugitive party made up of a handful of knights and some
fifty rough mercenaries, and be exposed to the hardships and perils
that must be theirs. Not even when he was reminded that the advancing
conqueror was Cesare Borgia did it affect him, for despite his shallow,
mincing ways, and his paraded scorn of war and warriors, the Lord
Filippo was stout enough at heart. He did not fear the Borgia, he
answered serenely, and if he came, he would offer him such hospitality
as lay within his power.

He came at last, did the mighty Cesare, although between his coming and
Giovanni's flight a full fortnight sped. As for myself, I spent the time
at the Sforza Palace, whither the Lord Filippo had carried me as his
guest, he being greatly taken with me and determined to become my
patron. We had news of Giovanni, first from Bologna and later from
Ravenna, whither he was fled. At first he talked of returning to Pesaro
with three hundred men he hoped to have from the Marquis of Mantua. But
probably this was no more than another piece of that big talk of his,
meant to impress the sorrowing and repining Madonna Paola, who suffered
more for him, maybe, than he