'Madonna wears her bethrothal ring—a very passepartout. It is the talisman will serve her with monks and saints alike.'
A little flush mantled to the Duchess's brow. Standing erect a moment she slipped the ring from her finger, and held it out to Bernardo.
'It should be the pledge through love of Charity. Take it, in my lord's good name, whose jealous representative I remain. And when thou return'st it, may it be sanctified of new justice, child, against the prick of envy and slander and the spite of venomous tongues.'
She turned away stately and resumed her needle as Bernardo, with a cry of thanks, ran from the room. A minute or two later he appeared before the sentry on the ramparts and flourished his token. To his surprise the man hardly glanced at it as he stepped aside to let him pass. He thought on this with some shapeless foreboding, as he leapt like a chamois down the steeps of the tower, the food, which he had snatched up, in his hands. God pity him and his awakening! There are emotions too sacred for minuting. Let it suffice that Jacopo had proved too faithful a prophylactic to superstition. The wretched monk had not been allowed to justify his own prediction by dying of starvation. In that last interval, between the Parablist's going and coming, his throat had been cut.
A minute later Bernardo leapt like a madman from the tower. His face was ashy, his hands trembling. At the foot of the curtain he stumbled over a poor patch, prostrate and moaning.
'I am thy Fool, and I shall never make thee smile again.'
All quivering and unstrung, he threw himself on his knees by Cicada's side.
'Up!' he screamed, 'up! Get you out of this Sodom ere the Lord destroy it!'
The Fool bestirred himself, raising eyes full of a sombre, eager questioning.
'I am forgiven?' he gasped; but Bernardo only cried frenziedly, 'Up! up!'