Lorenzo willingly consented: but when they had passed the rise, and were turning from the road to the right, some white objects rose over the slope, and a few steps more showed several lines of tents, with sentries on guard, and horses picketed near. "Ha! what is this?" exclaimed Ramiro d'Orco, with a look of displeasure manifest on his countenance. "Troops of France, my good lord," replied Lorenzo. "Do you not see the banners? Probably your relation, the Lord de Vitry, with the auxiliary force promised to his Highness the Duke of Valentinois." "It is strange, my lord prefect, that they should be camped on this side of Imola," said Ramiro; "they were more needed at Forli, methinks." He had drawn in his bridle while speaking, as if hesitating whether he should go on or turn back; but Lorenzo spurred forward at once, and was already speaking to the sentries, when the other came up. They were led almost immediately into the camp, and welcomed by De Vitry at the door of his tent. "Come in, nobles," he said, "come in; you are just in time to crush a cup of right French wine with me. Good faith, I and the great maestro were about to drain the goblet. He has promised to paint me a portrait, Signor Ramiro, of your fair relation, my sweet Blanche; and I tell him if he wants the picture of an angel for any of his great pictures, he shall have the portrait to copy at his wish." Something common-place was said by Ramiro d'Orco in reply, and all three entered the tent, where they found Leonardo da Vinci seated with a cup of wine before him, but in dusty apparel, and with a very grave expression of countenance. The ceremonious salutations of the day took place, and some fine wine of the Rhone was handed round; but De Vitry was more abrupt and thoughtful than ordinary. At length he rose, and beckoned Lorenzo aside, saying: "I want to speak to you, Visconti. How long are you from Forli?" "But a few days," replied Lorenzo, following him; "I suppose you have stopped the intended succour?" De Vitry made no answer to this half question, but whispered hastily---- "I understand it all; everything shall be done as he says. Devil take that Antonio! what has he gone away for, just at such an emergency?" "My noble friend, I know not what you mean," replied Lorenzo; "where has he gone? what emergency?" Ere De Vitry could answer, Ramiro d'Orco had risen, and, with a bland smile upon his lip, was approaching them. "I crave pardon, noble lords," he said, "but if we pursue not our journey soon, signor, we shall not reach Imola ere dark."