The Florentines looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders, but were too wise to remonstrate. They followed him, panting, across the steaming plain, where groups of cream-coloured oxen, cropping the rank herbage, looked up at them with dreamy, wondering eyes. When they reached the covert of cypress, poplar, and gnarled old olives, they loitered dangerously in the shade; and then, when well chilled, spurred on again, making themselves and their horses hotter than ever. And of course, as there was a descent all the way going, there was an ascent all the way back. Arrived at Itri, the Cardinal, throwing himself from his horse, called loudly for iced water. "My lord, you are very hot," said Giovanni Andrea, with seeming kindness. "Let me prevail on your Eminence to take this broth instead. It will be safer, and will repair your strength." The Cardinal took the broth, which was temptingly seasoned, and turned away with a sigh of relief. It was the early supper-hour, and the tables were already spread in the vaulted refectory, with abundance of better cheer than the Prior's larder usually afforded, some of which had been brought by his illustrious guest. And soon the hungry visitors took their places, and a long Latin grace was said, and the first course of confetti was served; and then the trencher of each man was filled with a large piece of meat that had been stewed with almonds and sugar. And while this was being disposed of, the Cardinal's servants and rubicund lay-brothers covered the table with dishes of boiled meat, fowls, small birds, kids, wild boar, and other viands. And after this course, another was to succeed, of tarts and cakes covered with spun sugar. But before the banquet reached this stage, the Cardinal, who had scarcely spoken since he sat down to table, and who had frequently changed colour, suddenly exclaimed-- "Take me hence--I am strangely ill!"---- Every eye was upon him in a moment--many started from their seats--one or two noted gourmands feigned deafness, and helped themselves to the best. Bernardino Salviati, the Cardinal's personal attendant, caught him in his arms. "Lean on me, my Lord Cardinal," said he. "We will bear you to your chamber." "Treachery, treachery, Salviati!" murmured the Cardinal, almost inarticulately. "I am poisoned." Giovanni Andrea, his other supporter, making believe to wipe the clammy dew from his face, held the handkerchief over his mouth, so as to muffle his voice. Above it glared the Cardinal at him fiercely. "Stand back!" said Salviati to him, roughly. "My Lord Cardinal is delirious, he raves," said Giovanni Andrea, shrinking away. "Prior! don't let that man come near me," said Ippolito, faintly. The Prior, with solicitude, bent his ear to his lips, but only saw them move. The next instant they were contorted with a spasm.