Yet there was nothing for it but a bold face, and as I mounted the stairs in the woman's wake, I told myself that I was doubly a fool to be tormented by qualms of such a nature.
Hat in hand I followed the hostess into Madonna's room.

The lady rose from the window-seat to greet me, her face pale and her gentle eyes wearing an anxious look.

At sight of my head crowned with the crested, horned hood of folly, a frown of bewilderment drew her brows together, and she looked more closely to see whether I was indeed the man who had befriended her that morning in her extremity.

In the eyes of the hostess I caught a gleam of recognition.

She knew me for the merry loon who had entertained her guests one night a fortnight since, when on my way from Pesaro to Rome.