The little party breakfasted on cups of clear water from the spring, and, in the fresh of the morning, folded its tents and started leisurely on the final stages of its journey. Madonna, lazy-lidded, sat her palfrey like a vine-goddess. Her bosom rose and fell in absolute tranquillity. She bestirred herself only, when Bembo rode near, to lavish ostentatious fondness on her Carlo, a regard which her Carlo repaid with a like ostentation of attention towards his little saint. It was an open conspiracy of souls, bared to one another, to justify their nakedness before heaven; only the woman carried off her shame with an air. Bernardo she ignored loftily; but her heart was busy, under all its calm exterior, with a poisonous point of vengeance. Presently, the sun striking hot, she dismounted and withdrew into her litter, a miniature long waggon, drawn on rude wheels by a yoke of sleepy oxen, and having an embroidered tilt opening to the side. A groom, walking there in attendance, led her palfrey by the bridle. Lanti and his guest, with the Fool for company, rode a distance ahead. The young nobleman was thoughtful and silent; yet it was obvious that he, with the others, felt the relief of that secession. Bernardo broke into a bright laugh, and rallied Cicada on his glumness. ’Why should I be merry,’ said the jester, with a sour face, ’when I was invited to a feast, and threatened with a cudgelling for attending?’ Bernardo looked at him lovingly. He thought this was some allusion to his self-enforced abstinence. ’Dear Cicca,’ said he, ’the feast was not worth the reckoning.’ ’O, was it not!’ cried Cicada with a hoarse crow. ’But I spoke of my lord’s brains, which, by the token, are the right flap-doodle.’ He put Bembo between himself and Lanti. ’Judge between us,’ he cried, ’judge between us, Messer Parablist. He offered to serve himself up to me, and, when I had no more than opened my mouth, was already at my ribs.’ Carlo, on the further side, laughed loud. ’It is always the same here,’ grumbled the Fool. ’They will have our stings drawn like snakes’ before they will sport with us. They love not in this Italy the joke which tells against themselves—of that a poor motley must ware. It muzzles him, muzzles him—drives the poison down and in; and you wonder at the bile in my face!’ He fell back, having uttered his snarl, with politic suddenness, and posted to the rear of the litter. The moment he was away, Bembo turned upon his host with a kindling look of affection. ’I am glad to have thee alone one moment,’ said he. ’O Carlo, dear! the base bright metal so to seduce thine eyes. Are they not opened?’