His face became very grave.
"Be civil to her, nothing more," he whispered. "You are quite right. Oh, how I hate that place!"--and he shivered a little.
"Well, we will soon be out of it."
"Please God!"
There was no one at the high table at dinner that day, both the cardinal and Bayard having gone to dine with Sforza at the Sforza Cesarini, quite an informal business, and none of the suite accompanied them.
The conversation at our table turned much on affairs, and as there were for once no guests, speech was very free.
"The fleur-de-lis will cover our tongues," said Le Clerc, "and to-day we may let them wag."
"Then how long is this truce to last?" asked De Briconnet, the captain of the cardinal's guard. "I am sick of this idleness here," he added.
"As for that, no man knows whether it is peace or war," replied Le Clerc. "Tremouille is chafing at Passignano, swearing that the game was ours if we had only let him march on after Fossombrone, and he was right. Now Cesare has stamped out the Magione league, and the Borgia are as strong as ever."
"How came such a man as Roderigo Borgia ever to be made pope?" I asked.