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Elsa uttered a sigh of relief. She put no faith whatever in Adrian's promises, but at the worst it would give her time. "I thought that I should not appeal in vain " "To so amusing and egregious a donkey," said Ramiro's mocking voice speaking from the gloom of the doorway, which now Elsa observed for the first time had swung open mysteriously.
Mother in Heaven! if it should be a suggestion of what actually had taken place, a suggestion that the church should be searched ere they abandoned it? But Ramiro's answer speedily relieved my fears. "I'll take no risks," he barked. "Come! Let us go separately. I first, and do you follow me and get clear of Pesaro as best you can."
For by this time Ramiro's temper was roused, and he began to think that he had done ill to return to Leyden. But he had still a card to play. In a certain room in the Gevangenhuis sat another victim.
For an hour or so that night I played the Fool for Messer Ramiro's entertainment in a manner which did high justice to the fame that at Pesaro I had earned for the name of Boccadoro.
Why then, assuredly, they had missed the peasant's hut that sheltered her, and where she waited yet for my return. Their search to the south I knew would prove equally futile. I could have fallen on my knees in a prayer of thanksgiving had my surroundings been other than they were. Ramiro's eye wandered round to me and settled on me in a lowering glance.
But when Ramiro cooled he was, perhaps, more malignant than ever, for it meant a return to natural condition, and Ramiro's natural condition was one of cruelty unsurpassed. "It may be as you say," he answered me at last, sheathing his dagger, "and at least you have my word that I will not slay you without first assuring myself that you have lied. For to-night you shall remain in durance.
A quarter of an hour later Adrian, cleaned and clothed, different indeed to look on from the torn and hunted fugitive, re-entered the sitting-room. As he came, clad in Ramiro's suit, Meg nudged her husband and whispered, "Like, ain't they?" "Like as two devils in hell," Simon answered critically, then added, "Your food is ready; come, Mynheer, and eat."
"In what direction?" came Ramiro's frenzied question. He doubted me no longer. "In the direction of Fabriano I should say," I answered. "Although it may well be that they were making for Sinigaglia. The road branches farther on." He waited for no more. Without word of thanks for the priceless information I had given him, he wheeled his horse, and shouted a hoarse command to his followers.
"Foy," she said, "will you promise something to me?" "After your experience of Ramiro's oaths I wonder that you ask," he answered, trying to be cheerful.
On a chair, the one usually occupied by Ramiro, himself, sat Madonna Paola, still in her torn and bedraggled raiment, her face white, her eyes wild as they had been when first she had been haled into Ramiro's presence, some two hours ago, and her features so rigidly composed that it told the tale of the awful self-control she must be exerting a self-control that might end with a sudden snap that would plunge her into madness.