And now came the hidden pain of my leave-taking of Madonna Paola.

She seemed to grieve at my departure.
"Lazzaro," she cried, when I had told her of my intention, "do you, too, desert me?
And I have ever held you my best of friends." I told her of the mother and of the duty that I owed her, whereupon she remonstrated no more, nor sought to do other than urge me to go to her.
And then I spoke of Madonna's kindness to me, and of the friendship with which she had honoured one so lowly, and in the end I swore, with my hand on my heart and my soul on my lips, that if ever she had work for me, she would not need to call me twice.
"This ring, Madonna," said I, "was given me by the Lord Cesare Borgia, and was to have proved a talisman to open wide for me the door to fortune.

It did better service than that, Madonna.

It was the talisman that saved you from your pursuers that day at Cagli, three years ago." "You remind me, Lazzaro," she cried, "of how much you have sacrificed in my service.

Yours must be a very noble nature that will do so much to serve a helpless lady without any hope of guerdon." "Nay, nay," I answered lightly, "you must not make so much of it.