"Poor young man!" said the landlady.
"Your Excellency can count on me!" cried the coachman, his eyes ablaze with the most passionate devotion; "where does His Excellency wish to go?"
"To Ferrara. I have a passport, but I should prefer not to speak to the police, who may have received information of what has happened."
"When did you despatch this fellow?"
"This morning, at six o'clock."
"Your Excellency has no blood on his clothes, has he?" asked the landlady.
"I was thinking of that," put in the coachman, "and besides, the cloth of that coat is too fine; you don't see many like that in the country round here, it would make people stare at us; I shall go and buy some clothes from the Jew. Your Excellency is about my figure, only thinner."
"For pity's sake, don't go on calling me Excellency, it may attract attention."
"Very good, Excellency," replied the coachman, as he left the tavern.
"Here, here," Fabrizio called after him, "and what about the money! Come back!"