hot at my weakness, I sought my chamber and there passed the day. The pigeons that lived under the eaves opposite my window, and to whose soft cooing I so often listened with pleasure before, now aroused other thoughts within me. If I could only lure one within reach! But it was impossible, and I glared at them as they fluttered and flirted with each other, with the hungry eyes of a cat baulked of her prey. At last I gave it up, and with a curse flung myself on my bed. Fool that I was! Five-and-thirty years should have brought me wisdom. I had stayed on in Florence, allowed my chances of revenge to get more distant, in fact, reached a stage of mind when I was doubtful if I could rightly exact vengeance, drifted into abject poverty, and worse than that, was continually thinking of a woman, who, when I had rendered her a service, treated me with contempt, who had no doubt forgotten me by this time, amidst her duties, if she had any, and her pleasures, of which I doubt not she had store. So the evening came amidst my reflections and self-reproaches, and, it being dusk, I decided to go forth again, and snatch a purse, if necessary, to obtain food. As I rose, an impulse I could not control made me unfasten my money-belt, and search if by chance there was a coin within it. Of course there was not a brown copper, but my fingers, in running up the belt, touched something hard, and I pulled forth, attached to its tag of red ribbon, my cross of St. Lazare, which, it will be remembered, I had placed therein for safety the night I was imprisoned in the Villa Accolti. I had clean forgot it in my troubles, and now it lay in my open palm, with the diamonds in it winking in my face. My whole frame trembled with excitement. Here was the means of freeing myself from debt at once, and of obtaining funds to quit Florence, nay Europe. At the lowest computation its worth could have been no less than forty crowns, and this at present was wealth to me. What with the effects of the want of food, and the sudden discovery of the cross, I began to feel weak all over, and flinging the badge on the table, sank down into a chair before it to compose myself. The room was almost dark, and I sat staring at the jewels and at the diamonds on it, which sparkled through the gloom. That little trinket was linked with the one great event of my life. All the past came vividly before my excited brain. I was again in that desperate retreat of Charles of France up the valley of the Taro, with the army of the League in full cry behind us. The old boar Trevulzio commanded the rear guard, disputed every inch of the road, and now and again stood boldly at bay, and gave a taste of his tusks to the Duke of Bari, and the fine gentlemen of Venice. It was at this moment that Roderigo Gonsaga made his dash for the heights above the junction of the Ceno and the Taro. Trevulzio saw the movement; he was powerless to help, and knew that if it succeeded all was lost.