"Then let him marry another too," said the Duke of Orleans; but the conversation was here cut short by the announcement that supper was spread in the hall below, and the duke's noble followers assembled there. CHAPTER XXXIV. Lorenzo Visconti rode along but slenderly accompanied. A few attendants and one or two pack-horses formed all the train which followed him. A carelessness had come over him, not only of all display, but of life and all things that life could give. He rode, as De Vitry had described, at headlong speed. It seemed as if he were flying from something--perhaps from bitterly contrasted memories; but, as ever, black care sat behind the horseman, and no furious riding could shake him off. His eyes were fixed upon the ground, but he saw not loose stone or slippery rock, and never marked the heavy clouds which, having ravaged the valley of the Isere, were now rising over the hills upon his left, and threatening to pour down their fury upon him. Grave and, for him, strangely sad, Antonio was following close behind him, watching with eager anxiety the obstructions in his master's way, and marking also the coming tempest. "My lord," he said, at length, with a somewhat hesitating voice, "were it not better to seek some shelter and to ride more slowly?" "Why?" asked Lorenzo; "the road is good." "Because, my lord," replied the man, "if we do not seek some shelter we shall be half drowned in ten minutes, and if we ride so hard, though you may go safe, we worse mounted men will break both our necks and our horses' knees, as soon as the sun sets, which will be in a quarter of an hour." Lorenzo drew in his rein; but the only word he spoke was "Well?" "We just passed a handsome chateau, my lord," urged Antonio, "and I am sure they will give you ready welcome there, if you like to rest there for the night." "Whose chateau is it?" inquired his lord, with no great signs of interest. "Is it that of Madame de Chaumont?" replied Antonio. "Do you not remember her and her beautiful daughter at the court last year? They were very fond of your society, and will gladly receive you, I will warrant." "Yes, she is very beautiful," said Lorenzo, carelessly, "but light as vanity: what woman is not? But I cannot stay tonight, my good Antonio. My cousin and her husband expect me, and I must on." "But you will never be able to pass the Isere, my lord," said Antonio; "that cloud has left half its burden there, depend upon it. Do you not remember how the river rises in an hour? I will wager a crown to a coronet there is ten feet of water on the bridge by this time. But here come the drops, and we shall have water and fire too enough before we have done. I have a hideous cold, my lord, and cold bathing is not good for me."