“Something has detained his honor beyond this time,” replied the other. “Count Ugolino was not wont to be so slow in keeping his engagements. Hark! I hear footsteps. It must be he. Stand close.” A merry laugh pealed through the deserted street. A troop of gallants, masked, and attended by serving-men, and pages bearing torches, came onward. They passed by, and the clank of their spurs, and the rattle of their rapiers, died away in the distance. “The cursed Frenchmen!” muttered the shortest of the concealed personages, while his hand clutched convulsively the hilt of his dagger. “Ill fare the day that Florence ever saw Walter of Brienne!” “But as morn approaches the night is ever most dark,” rejoined his comrade. “Would the count were here. By the scales of justice I am even a’weary of waiting for him. Comes he not yet?” A tall figure was seen stealthily approaching through the gloom. “Ha! Ugolino! Count, is it thou?” “The same. Well found, Pino D’Rossi.” “We have watched long for thee, and almost feared that our watch was in vain.” “I could not escape unnoticed. It is a wild night.” “The fitter for our purpose. The worthy Adimari greets thee well, and joyfully receives thee as a brother. We are ready to conduct thee to the assembly of the chiefs.” “In good time. Is Pompeo Medici there?” “He is there; to hear and to act.” “It is well. But time flies, and our conversation is too public if these slaves of the _bargello_ be about. Let us away to the noble Adimari.” So saying, the three plunged into the surrounding darkness, and were quickly lost to the sight.