Messer Arcolano had had enough of me and my questions at Mondolfo, and he
was not minded to expose himself to worse behaviour on my part in the more
interesting thoroughfares of this great city.
So we passed it by, and rode under the very walls by way of an avenue of
flowering chestnuts, round to the northern side, until we emerged suddenly
upon the sands of Po, and I had my first view at close quarters of that
mighty river flowing gently about the islands, all thick with willows, that
seemed to float upon its gleaming waters.
Fishermen were at work in a boat out in mid-stream, heaving their nets to
the sound of the oddest cantilena, and I was all for pausing there to watch
their operations. But Arcolano urged me onward with that impatience of his
which took no account of my very natural curiosity. Presently I drew rein
again with exclamations of delight and surprise to see the wonderful bridge
of boats that spanned the river a little higher up.
But we had reached our destination. Arcolano called a halt at the gates of
a villa that stood a little way back from the road on slightly rising
ground near the Fodesta Gate. He bade one of the grooms get down and open,
and presently we ambled up a short avenue between tall banks of laurel, to
the steps of the villa itself.
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