Four men, mounted and armed, stood waiting to escort us, and with them were
three mules, one for Arcolano, one for myself, and the third already laden
with my baggage.
A servant held my stirrup, and I swung myself up into the saddle, with
which I was but indifferently acquainted. Then Arcolano mounted too,
puffing over the effort, for he was a corpulent, rubicund man with the
fattest hands I have ever seen.
I touched my mule with the whip, and the beast began to move. Arcolano
ambled beside me; and behind us, abreast, came the men-at-arms. Thus we
rode down towards the gateway, and as we went the servants murmured their
valedictory words.
"A safe journey, Madonnino!"
"A good return, Madonnino!"
I smiled back at them, and in the eyes of more than one I detected a look
of commiseration.
Once I turned, when the end of the quadrangle was reached, and I waved my
cap to my mother and Fra Gervasio, who stood upon the steps where I had
left them. The friar responded by waving back to me. But my mother made
no sign. Likely enough her eyes were upon the ground again already
Her unresponsiveness almost angered me. I felt that a man had the right to
some slight display of tenderness from the woman who had borne him. Her
frigidity wounded me. It wounded me the more in comparison with the
affectionate clasp of old Gervasio's arms.
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