St. Armande looked from one to another of us in surprise. "This is a friend, chevalier," I said, "who has done us good service," and turning to Corte, "but we must meet the man--how on earth are we to do so in any force?" "Look round you," he made answer, "like master, like man--stroll out. You have some swords at your back. Take them with you; but better not go at all. Ah! I see my new master, the Camulengo, looking towards me--be wise and do not go," and Corte moved off to where the Cardinal Ascanio Sforze was seated, surrounded by a little group of courtiers and priests. "Who is that man?" asked St. Armande. "I met him under circumstances too long to tell you here," I said, "some other day you may hear all about him. We will however take his advice, and meet Don Michelotto with an extra sword or so at our backs." So saying I took his arm, and we strolled through the apartments, where every one appeared to be giving full rein to his fancy. In fact the beginning of an orgie had set in. Alexander, apparently recovered from the shock of meeting with his son, was at the gaming table, playing heavily, with Giulia Bella at his side. Bayard and Gonsalvo de Cordova were engaged in earnest converse with each other, and Strigonia and D'Amboise were cracking a flask of wine. I heard D'Este say as we passed him--"It is adieu to your eminence after to-night. I am a sheep fat enough for the shambles, and must look to my throat and my fleece." "You would be wise Strigonia," D'Amboise made answer, "if the shield of France did not cover me, I would not be here another hour. But it is an ill thing to lose a comrade such as you." "To better times," and the prelate who could only eat, drained his glass to the prelate who could both eat and think. We now began to hurry a little, and found that Corte was right, for the soldiers who had lined the passage inside the Bronze Gates had taken themselves off, and a considerable numbers of servants and followers were enjoying here the results of piratical raids on the supper tables. Outside, however, everything was in order, for De Leyva was a thorough soldier. I found both the Spaniard and De Briconnet cursing their luck at being on the guards, and attacking a capon which they were washing down with copious draughts of Falernian. Their duties kept them outside, and it was a poor supper they were making, by the light of torches, seated together on the steps of the Vatican. "What! out already, cavaliere?" asked De Briconnet. "Is the cardinal going?" "No, but there is a little business," I answered as I called Jacopo. "_Nom du diable!_ Can I not come?" "It would be a relaxation," said De Leyva. "I am afraid not, gentlemen, although we thank you. Here, Jacopo! Get three of our fellows and follow me. Tell the others to hold their horses."