"A moment, excellency," and he held up a fat hand, "ha! ha! I had it all from Messer Lambro, my cousin, and groom of the chambers to Count Carlo. Well, all the fief I spoke of is inherited by the Lady Angiola, the daughter of old Count Adriano. The family is Ghibelline, and have taken the French side, and seeing that Tremouille was between us and Casale, my lady must needs go down to visit her estates. The Count, who is looking for a wife, buckles on his armour, mounts his mare, and with two hundred lances at his back, gallops up the left bank of the Tiber, fords the stream, swoops down on the dovecote at Rossino, and brings back a bride to Perugia; ha! ha! It is superb." "Ha! ha! Messer Passaro--diavolo! Are they married yet?" "Not yet--ah! The wine is wine for the gods as your worship says--not married yet, for my lady is half beside herself they say, and the Count, receiving a sudden message from Cesare, has had to leave Perugia for a few days." "_Cospitto!_ How he must curse the Borgia for putting off his happiness! And she is handsome, eh?" "For the matter of that, excellency, one does not squint at a sour face set in a golden coif. But they do say the lady is very beautiful." "You have not seen her then?" "_Corpo di Bacco!_ She is under lock and key, and not for the likes of me to look upon." "In the citadel I suppose--a gloomy cage for a fair bird." "Maybe, but I have let my tongue wag too freely, signore, and must be going." "Safe enough with me, Messer Passaro, for I am on the right side--adieu!"