I stepped forward to command a better view of what they contemplated, and in the plain below, midway between Narni and the slopes, a mile or so behind us, I caught a glitter as of a hundred mirrors in the sunshine.

A company of some dozen men-at-arms it was, riding briskly along the tracks we had left behind us in the snow.

Could these be the pursuers?
Even as I formed the question in my mind, the lady's silvery voice, behind me, put it into words.

She had drawn aside the curtains of her litter and she was leaning out, her eyes upon those dancing points of brilliance.
"Madonna," cried one of her grooms, in a quaver of alarm, "they are Borgia soldiers." "Your fear is father to that opinion," she answered scornfully.

"How can you descry it at this distance ?" Now, either God had given that knave an eagle's sight, or else, as she suggested, fear spurred his imagination and begot his certainty of what he thought he saw.
"The leader's bannerol bears the device of a red bull," he answered promptly.
I thought she paled a little, and her brows contracted.
"In God's name, let us get forward, then!" cried Giacopo.