On the morrow Giovanni left Pesaro with but a small retinue, in which I was thankful not to be included.
Two days later Madonna Lucrezia followed her husband, the fact that they journeyed not together, seeming to wear an ominous significance.

Her eyes had a swollen look, such as attends much weeping, which afterwards I took as proof that she knew for what purpose she was going, and was moved to bitter grief at the act to which her ambitious family was constraining her.
After their departure things moved sluggishly at Pesaro.

The nobles of the Lord Giovanni's Court repaired to their several houses in the neighboring country, and save for the officers of the household the place became deserted.
Madonna Paola remained at the Sforza Palace, and I saw her only once during the two mouths that followed, and then it was about the streets, and she had little more than a greeting for me as she passed.

At her side rode her brother, a splendid blaze of finery, falcon on wrist.
My days were spent in reading and reflection, for there was naught else to do.

I might have gone my ways, had I so wished it, but something kept me there at Pesaro, curious to see the events with which the time was growing big.
We grew sadly stagnant during Lent, and what with the uneventful course of things, and the lean fare proscribed by Mother Church, it was a very dispirited Boccadoro that wandered aimlessly whither his dulling fancy took him.