My Lord of Carmagnola had shut himself up in a small room on the ground floor of the castle of Quinto to indite a letter to the High and Most Potent Duke Filippo Maria of Milan. A heavy labour this of quill on parchment for one who had little scholarship. It was a labour that fell to him so rarely that he had never perceived until now the need to equip himself with a secretary. The Princess and her brother newly returned from Mass on that Sunday morning, four days after Bellarion's escape, were together in the armoury discussing their situation, and differing a good deal in their views, for the mental eyes of the young Marquis were not dazzled by the effulgence of Carmagnola's male beauty, or deceived by his histrionic attitudes. Into their presence, almost unheralded, were ushered two men. One of these was small and slight and active as a monkey, the other a fellow of great girth with a big, red, boldly humorous face, blue eyes under black brows flanking a beak of a nose, and a sparse fringe of grey hair straggling about a gleaming bald head. The sight of those two, who smirked and bowed, brought brother and sister very suddenly to their feet. 'Barbaresco!' she cried on a note of gladness, holding out both her hands. 'And Casella!' 'And,' said Barbaresco, as he rolled forward, 'near upon another five hundred refugees from Montferrat, both Guelph and Ghibelline, whom we've been collecting in Piedmont and Lombardy to swell the army of the great Bellarion and settle accounts with Master Theodore.' They kissed her hands, and then her brother's. 'My Lord Marquis!' cried the fire-eating Casella, his gimlet glance appraising the lad. 'You're so well grown I should hardly have known you. We are your servants, my lord, as madonna here can tell you. For years have we laboured for you and suffered for you. But we touch the end of all that now, as do you. Theodore is brought to bay at last. We are hounds to help you pull him down.' At no season could their coming have been more welcome or uplifting than in this hour of dark depression, when recruits to the cause of the young Marquis were so urgently required. This she told them, announcing their arrival a good omen. Servants were summoned, and despatched for wine, and whilst the newcomers drank the hot spiced beverage provided they learnt the true meaning of her words. It sobered their exultation. This defection of Bellarion and his powerful company amounting to more than half of the entire army altered their outlook completely. Barbaresco blew out his great cheeks, frowning darkly. 'You say that Bellarion is the agent of Theodore?' he cried. 'We have proof of it,' she sadly assured him, and told him of the letter. His amazement deepened. 'Does it surprise you, then?' she asked. 'Surely it should be no news to you!'