Francesco nodded, although he was not sure of the fact.
Enlarging on the subject, as they rode side by side, the Duke of Spoleto opined that women were capable of giving a deal of trouble.
Francesco considered the suggestion with due seriousness without venturing an expression on the subject.
"You come from Rome?" the duke queried at last.
"The Ghibellines are in possession of the town," Francesco replied with heavy heart.
The duke laughed.
"The spirit of chivalry runs counter to the growlings of the fathers," he said, then paused dramatically. "Anjou's name is a great and stinking sore. The whole country holds its nose because of its stench. As for him who succeeded the Cobbler's son in the chair of St. Peter:—he has yet to learn that self-righteousness but needs the devil's kiss on the forehead."
Francesco made no reply.
The Duke of Spoleto struck his fist into his palm.
"Meat, drink and the love of woman,—these things matter more than Heaven and Hell and the solemn ravings of an ascetic though," he added meditatively, "the holy fathers of the Church teach that woman is the seed and core of all evil. Perchance we find therein the reason of their own pitiable estate!"