At the head of this company rode a powerfully-built man on a great sorrel horse, at sight of whom the fool swore softly in astonishment.

In the middle of the party came four litters borne by mules, and at the side of one of them rode a slender, graceful figure that provoked from Peppe a second oath.

But the profoundest objurgation of all was wrung from him at sight of a portly bulk in the black habit of the Dominicans ambling in the rear, who just then was in angry altercation with a fellow that was urging his mule along with the butt of his partisan.
"May you be roasted on a gridiron like Saint Lawrence," gasped the irate priest.

"Would you break my neck, brute beast that you are?
Do you but wait until we reach Roccaleone, and by St.Dominic, I'll get your ruffianly commander to hang you for this ill-seasoned jest." But his tormentor laughed for answer, and smote the mule again, a blow this time that almost caused it to rear up.

The friar cried out in angry alarm, and then, still storming and threatening his persecutor, he passed on.