’If it please you, Messer.’ ’Why, look you, child, love may very well have its procurer—say a State Secretary, where love is of high standing. And thence may follow the subversion of a State. There’s a pretender in Milan, they tell me, something an idol of the people—I know not. Only this I ponder: What if there be, and he that same idol which the Duchess is reported to have raised? Would Simonetta, in such case, join in the hymn of praise? One might foresee, if he did, a trinity very strong in the public worship. His Grace, I can’t help thinking, would find himself _de trop_ here at present. You might put it to him—your own way. When will you set out?’ ’When?’ ’This moment, I ’d advise. To-morrow might mean never. The Duke’s at Vigevano—less than six leagues away. A good horse might carry thee there by morning. I’ve such a one in my stables. He’ll honour thee for this service, trust me.’ Tassino’s little soul spirted into flame. ’_Viva il duca!_’ he piped, and ran to the door. He drove it before him—it opened outwards—and, descending the dark stairs with his patron, passed into the night. An hour later he was spurring for Vigevano, while the Prince was engaged in preparing against his own journey to Genoa on the morrow. *CHAPTER XXI* Carlo kept his room all day, gnawing and tramping out his problem, and extracting nothing from it. Not till it was deep dark did he call for lights, and then he cursed his page, Ercole, who brought them, because they dazzled his brain from thinking. Swerving on his heel, he was in the act of bidding the boy let no one enter, unless it might be Messer Bembo, when, the door being ajar, there hurried into the chamber the figure of a fantastic hag, who, upon noting his company, stopped suddenly, and stood mumbling and sawing the air. ’Begone!’ he roared, astounded, and took a furious step towards her. She laughed harshly. His clenched fists dropped to his sides. There was no mistaking that bitter cackle. He flung his arm to the page, dismissing him. The moment the door was shut upon them, off went the cloak and sequins, off went the hood and snaky locks, and the Fool Cicada, clean and lithe in a tight suit of jarnsey, stood revealed. Carlo leapt upon him, mouthing. ’What mummery, beast, and at such a time? Wait while I choke thee.’ In the tumult of his fury he remembered his promise to Bernardo, and fell back, breathing. ’Hast finished?’ said Cicada, acrid and unmoved. ’I could retort upon a fool but for lacking time. Where’s the boy?’ ’Renegade! What concerns it thee to know?’ ’I say, where’s the boy?’ ’If I might trounce thee! Safe, at present, no thanks to thee.’ ’Have I asked any? You must take horse and ride after the ring.’ ’The ring!’ ’I warn thee, lose not a moment. It may be even now upon the road.’ ’The road!’