We pulled up at the entrance to a large pavilion, out of whose open door a broad band of light streamed into the night. "Follow me," said Bayard, and I did so, the guards saluting respectfully as we entered. I had not time to look about me, but saw that Tremouille, who was in his armour, was pacing up and down the tent, with his limping gait, and dictating a despatch to his secretary. He stopped short in his walk, and greeting Bayard cheerfully, looked at me with a grave surprise. "This is M. di Savelli," said Bayard, "he has business of such importance with your excellency, that I have taken it upon myself to bring him here." The duke glanced at me keenly, the thin lines of his lips closing together. "Are you aware of the risk you run by coming to my camp?" he asked. "I am perfectly aware, your excellency, but----" "You must either be a fool, or a very brave man," he interrupted. "I lay claim to neither honour, my lord, and I take the risk: will you hear me?" He nodded, and I laid my proposal before him. When I had finished his face expressed approval. "Very well," he said, "I will detach Hawkwood. If you succeed, hand the money over to him." "I understand, my lord," and bowing I retired. As I reached the door of the pavilion, I heard the duke's voice again: "M. di Savelli." "My lord," and I faced him. "Succeed in this, and count me as a friend. I give you the word of Tremouille." "I thank your excellency," and turning again I went forth. Bayard followed me out. "I have half a mind to ask you to let me share your adventure," he said, "I am afraid, however, they will not allow me to go. At any rate I will ride back to the outposts with you--down, Bran," and he swung into the saddle. When I shook hands with Bayard on parting from him, his last speech was--"Be careful, cavaliere, for Tremouille is a man of his word--if you fail, however, remember the game is not yet lost--good-bye, and good luck." I turned Castor's head towards the convent, and leaving the camp fires behind me, went on through the darkness. It was midnight when I reached the villa. Those tough old soldiers Jacopo and Bande Nere were on the watch. Everything was ready; and after sharing a skin of wine all round, we rode out--shadowy figures through the mist, now faintly lit up by a young moon, whose thin crescent lay quietly in the sky. I looked back at the walls of the convent; from a window of an upper chamber a light was shining. Perhaps it was hers! And I bent down my head in a silent prayer, for God's help in my fight back to honour. CHAPTER XXIV. TOO DEARLY BOUGHT.