was too busy a man to bother
about other people's arguments. Yet Griffo left the Company of Death a
misnomer, as far as he was concerned. Griffo had let the Reds ride
onward to Arezzo and back to Florence, very much to Simone's annoyance
and discomfiture. What, then, was the cause of Griffo's defalcation, and
who had inspired him to this signal piece of treachery?

Simone shrewdly suspected Madonna Vittoria to be at the back of the
matter, a suspicion that was plentifully fed by Maleotti, who was eager
enough to get his patron's angry thoughts directed against any other
than himself. Luckily, however, for Madonna Vittoria, she very shrewdly
suspected that Simone would shrewdly suspect her, and she laid her
plans accordingly. After she had whispered into Dante's ear, in the
square before the Church of the Holy Name, the secret of Simone's
treason, she decided that it might be as well for her to change the air
of Florence for one which she could breathe in greater security. Simone
of the Bardi, never a pleasant man in his best moods, would be very far
indeed from proving a pleasant man to any crosser of his purpose, even
if that crosser were a woman as fair as Monna Vittoria. The woman's
imagination could feel the grip of Simone's fingers about her throat,
and she shivered at the thought in the warm air. She could see Simone's
eyes glaring wolfishly down upon her, and she lowered her own lids at
the fancied sight and shuddered. When she had a little shaken off the
effects of this most disagreeable vision, she took her precautions to
prevent its becoming a reality.

When, therefore, Simone came in a rage to Vittoria's villa with a tale
of his trustiest ruffians at his heels, he found no Madonna Vittoria
waiting to receive him, to be questioned, to be forced to confess, to be
punished. Far away on the highroad toward Arezzo a youth was riding
furiously, a comely youth that seemed not a little plump in his clothes
of golden brocade, a youth with a scarlet cap on a crown of dark hair, a
youth that kept a splendid horse galloping at full speed toward Messer
Griffo's encampment outside Arezzo. If Messer Simone could have known of
that riding figure he would have been even angrier than he was. All he
did know was that Monna Vittoria was nowhere within the liberties of her
villa, and as he realized this fact he stood for a while closing and
unclosing the fingers of his great hands with an expression on his face
that would have