But if at any time Paola Sforza di Santafior may be able to discharge this obligation, you shall find me very willing." White-faced, black-browed Giacopo scowled at this proclamation of her identity.
I made her a low bow, and answered coldly, brusquely almost, for I hated the very name of Sforza, and every living thing that bore it.
"Madonna, you overrate my service.

It so chanced that I was travelling this way." She looked more closely at me, as if she would have sought the reason of my churlish tone, and I was strangely thankful that she could not see the motley worn by the muffled stranger who confronted her.

No doubt she accounted me a clown, whose nature inclined to surliness, and so she turned away, telling Giacopo that as soon as the horses were breathed they might push on.
"We must rest them yet awhile, Madonna," answered he, "if they are to carry us as far as Cagli.

Heaven send that we may obtain fresh cattle there, else is all lost." Her frown proclaimed how much his words displeased her.
"You forget that if there are no horses for us, neither are there any for those others." And she waved her hand towards the valley below and the road by which we had come.

From this and from what was said I gathered that they were a party of fugitives with pursuers at their heels.
"They have a warrant which we have not," was Giacopo's answer, gloomily delivered, "and they will seize cattle where they can find it." With a little gesture of impatience, more at his fears than at the peril that aroused them, she moved away towards her litter.
"Your horse would be better for the loan of your cloak, sir stranger," said Giacopo to me.
I knew him to be right, but shrugged my shoulders.
"Better the horse should die of cold than I," I answered gruffly, and turning from him I set myself to pace the snow and stir the blood that was chilling in my veins.
There was a beauty in the white, sunlit landscape spread before me that compelled my glance.