hey did not mean to make their presence known to him, while in
the event of their escape he was without means of tracing them farther.
He knew indeed that their destination was Milan, but, should they reach
there safely, what hope was there of finding them in a city of
strangers? By a stroke of folly he had cut himself off from all
communication with them, and his misery was enhanced by the discovery of
his weakness. He who had fed his fancy on high visions, cherishing in
himself the latent patriot and hero, had been driven by a girl's caprice
to break the first law of manliness and honour! The event had already
justified her; and in a flash of self-contempt he saw himself as she no
doubt beheld him--the fribble preying like a summer insect on the slow
growths of difficult years...

In bitterness of spirit he set out the next morning for Pianura. A
half-melancholy interest drew him back to the scene of his lonely
childhood, and he had started early in order to push on that night to
Pontesordo. At Valsecca, the regular posting-station between Vercelli
and Pianura, he sent Cantapresto forward to the capital, and in a stormy
yellow twilight drove alone across the waste land that dipped to the
marshes. On his right the woods of the ducal chase hung black against
the sky; and presently he saw ahead of him the old square keep, with a
flight of swallows circling low about its walls.

In the muddy farm-yard a young man was belabouring a donkey laden with
mulberry-shoots. He stared for a moment at Odo's approach and then
sullenly returned to his task.

Odo sprang out into the mud. "Why do you beat the brute?" said he
indignantly. The other turned a dull face on him and he recognised his
old enemy Giannozzo.

"Giannozzo," he cried, "don't you know me? I am the Cavaliere Valsecca,
whose ears you used to box when you were a lad. Must you always be
pummelling something, that you can't let that poor brute alone at the
end of its day's work?"

Giannozzo, dropping his staff, stammered out that he craved his
excellency's pardon for not knowing him, but that as for the ass it was
a stubborn devil that would not have carried Jesus Christ without
gibbing.

"The beast is tired and hungry," cried Odo, his old compassion for the
sufferings of the farm-animals suddenly reviving. "How many hours have
you worked it without rest or food?"

"No more than I have worked myself," said Giannozzo sulkily; "and as for
its being hungry, why shou