Three hours later, Antonio came to him with the announcement that
everything was ready, the things were packed, and Signor Muzzio was
preparing to start. Without a word in answer to his servant, Fabio went out
on to the terrace, whence the pavilion could be seen. A few pack-horses
were grouped before it; a powerful raven horse, saddled for two riders, was
led up to the steps, where servants were standing bare-headed, together
with armed attendants. The door of the pavilion opened, and supported by
the Malay, who wore once more his ordinary attire, appeared Muzzio. His
face was death-like, and his hands hung like a dead man’s--but he walked
... yes, positively walked, and, seated on the charger, he sat upright
and felt for and found the reins. The Malay put his feet in the stirrups,
leaped up behind him on the saddle, put his arm round him, and the whole
party started. The horses moved at a walking pace, and when they turned
round before the house, Fabio fancied that in Muzzio’s dark face there
gleamed two spots of white.... Could it be he had turned his eyes upon him?
Only the Malay bowed to him ... ironically, as ever.
Did Valeria see all this? The blinds of her windows were drawn ... but it
may be she was standing behind them.