Estimating roughly, I should say that fully three hundred persons dined daily, in this manner, with D'Amboise, and this hospitality, which he exercised in the manner of a French feudal noble, was the subject of much amusement at the Papal Court, where they prided themselves on a more refined and delicate style of living. At any rate, all that was here was safe to touch, and no one had need to fear that a dinner at the Palazzo Corneto with the Cardinal of Rouen was a prelude to a supper with St. Peter in heaven. His eminence, who was a notable trencherman, beamed down from his high seat on us all, and tried valiantly to assay conclusions with the Cardinal of Strigonia; but was compelled at last to own himself beaten, for Ippolyte d'Este was one in a thousand at table; in fact, this jovial prelate ended his days suddenly, after a prodigious dinner, which began at eleven in the morning and ended at four in the afternoon, concluding with so light a dainty as a dish of roasted cray-fish, washed down with a bottle of vernaccia, a wine of which he was inordinately fond. At our own table, there were about a dozen or more, and I found myself seated next to St. Armande, whilst opposite to me was Le Clerc, the cardinal's chaplain, and next to him an officer of the Papal Guards, a Spaniard, who spoke little and ate much. St. Armande passed by the wine, drinking only water, and in reply to a question of mine answered that he was under a vow. "We can absolve you here easily, chevalier," said Le Clerc, who overheard the remark, "here is some Orvieto which I can recommend," and he pushed the flask towards St. Armande. The latter, however, would not be tempted, and Le Clerc shook his head. "A wilful man must have his way, chevalier; but that Orvieto was a present from Pierrot, Our Lord's most favoured servant." "Indeed," said the Spaniard; "then I can safely say it is the last present you will receive from Don Pierrot." "How so?" "Cesare arrived last night, very suddenly, with two men only, they say. He has not, however, yet seen His Holiness--although he is in the Vatican." Le Clerc remained silent, but St. Armande asked in his low voice-- "I do not follow, sir. Could you not explain? Unless I ask too much. You see I am a stranger to Rome." The Spaniard smiled grimly. "It means, chevalier, that Pierrot was found this morning with a dagger sticking up to the hilt in his heart." St. Armande turned pale, and Le Clerc asked in a low tone-- "Are you sure of this? When did it happen?" "As sure as I sit here. It happened an hour or so after Cesare's coming. The Pope is said to be overcome with grief," and the lips of Don Diego de Leyva took a sarcastic curve. "Great heavens!" said Le Clerc. "Poor Pierrot!"