Two mighty bounds brought him to his side, and ere Francesco knew what was happening, he found himself dragged over the greensward and stood pale and trembling before the assembled company. Conradino had paused precipitately, as if some bird of evil omen had crossed his path. The others immediately surrounded Francesco, who was writhing in the futile endeavor to release himself from the grip which was upon him. In the struggle the cowl had dropped back, revealing Francesco's features, set and deadly pale, and the cry: "A monk!" was not for the cloth, but him it covered. Two men had uttered it as with one voice, the Viceroy of Apulia and the Count Palatine, while in the faces of their companions Francesco read only loathing and hatred, such as any traitor would inspire. The Frangipani released his victim with a reluctant scowl. Conrad Capecé seized Francesco by the shoulders and looked into his face. He felt moved despite himself by the expression of petrified grief which he read in the face of the youth, who, unable longer to endure the glances of hatred which he instinctively felt resting upon him, had dropped his gaze. "What is your purpose here?" the Apulian queried sternly. Twice, in the thrall of conflicting emotions, Francesco started to reply, a hot wave of shame chasing the pallor from his cheeks. The words died on his lips. At last, with a supreme effort, throwing back his head as in mute defiance, he replied: "My business is with the Pontiff!" "The business of a traitor,--a spy!" It was the voice of Raniero Frangipani that had fallen sharply on his ear. Francesco made no reply. Only he seemed to grow a shade more gray. In his stead spoke Don Enrico, the Senator of Rome, who had stepped to the Viceroy's side. "It must have been known to you that the Pontiff has abandoned the city and has fled to Viterbo. Do not try to deceive us! We shall find means to learn the truth!" The threatening tenor of the Spaniard's voice recalled Francesco to himself. He turned to Capecé who was regarding him gloomily. "My lord, I have never spoken a falsehood. I arrived in Rome but yesterday from Monte Cassino. Of the state of the city I knew nothing. My business is with the Pontiff." "Then why did you not depart on learning that Clement and the Provencals have fled?" A choking sensation came to Francesco. His hand went to his throat. The Viceroy saw and understood. With a sweep of the hand he bade the others stand aside. "Go!"--The command was tinged with scorn and contempt. "I vouch for this monk!" Francesco heard him address the Senator of Rome, as with head bowed down he walked slowly away. But with a sharp pang another voice smote his unwittingly listening ear. "A renegade!" It was the voice of Raniero Frangipani.-- On that night, when Francesco returned to the inn and had repaired to his chamber, he lay on his bed without moving, without even thinking.