No need to pause longer on the parting; no need to follow them on that day's march, for it was without incident. It seemed very short too, to the young lovers, although the distance was greater than had been expected--all distances are. The seven miles from the villa to Pavia and the seven miles from Pavia to Belgiojoso stretched themselves into full sixteen miles, which is contrary to all rules of arithmetic, but still it is an invariable result. The day was charming. It was like youth: it might have been too warm but for certain clouds which shadowed the sky from time to time, and tempered the ardour of the sun. The heavy-armed horses suffered a little: but at length the pretty village--for it deserved not the name of town--which has since given a famous name to a beautiful, high-spirited, but unfortunate lady, appeared before them about four o'clock in the afternoon. Old St. Pierre, the king's harbinger, had been there for some hours with his twenty lances; the quarters were all marked out, and everything prepared. "As the king must occupy his own lodging first, my lord," he said, "I cannot give you the best inn; but here is a very pretty little place at the edge of the village, where they seem good people, and I reserved that for you. I did not expect, indeed, so many ladies," he continued, looking towards Leonora and her maids, "but I dare say they can all be accommodated. Come and see." Lorenzo rode on, with the old gentleman, who was on foot, walking by the side of his horse and talking all the time. The little inn to which he led them is, I dare say, there still. It certainly was so some twenty years ago--much changed, doubtless, from what it was then, but still with somewhat of the antique about it. There were vines over both sides of the house, and the rooms to the back looked over the gardens, and small, richly cultivated fields that surrounded the place. The leaves of the vines were turning somewhat yellow, and many a cluster had been already plucked from the bough; but Leonora pronounced it charming, and Lorenzo thought so too. Happy had they both been if Fate had never placed them in higher abodes. Oh, those pinnacles; they are dangerous resting-places.