When I hastened from the scene of my condemnation, I had no other idea but of death, of self-destruction rather than life as it would be now to me; but I put aside all these thoughts for I had to live for revenge. That would be my first object, and until it was achieved I would not rest. With this in my mind I gained the St. Clement Gate of Arezzo, passing through without notice.
Walking down the Via San Dominico, I turned to the right by the Borgo di San Vito, and here I was recognised and hooted. Pressing hurriedly forwards, and aided opportunely by the passage of a body of men-at-arms, coming through the street in a direction opposite to that of my followers, I succeeded in shaking off my tormentors, and turning again to the right up a narrow street, entered a barber's shop to have my beard removed in order to disguise myself as far as possible. The barber, a fussy little fellow, placed me before a mirror of polished steel, and as he set to work stropping a razor on the palm of his hand, I removed my cap, and for the first time observed that the hair of my head was thickly streaked with grey.
"Your excellency has doubtless come to join the army," said the barber in a tone of inquiry as he drew his razor across my face.
"Ah, yes, yes; I have just come," I replied, and the little man went on--
"There have been great doings to-day. 'Tis said the duke has ordered the Count di Savelli to be executed for having in his possession a favour of Madame. They say the count stole it, but we know better, don't we, your excellency?" and the little fool chuckled to himself. He went on without waiting for an answer. "Ah, yes; the ladies can never resist us soldiers. I may tell you that I served with Don Carlo Baglioni, and can bear my pike--there now, I think that side is clean shaven--as I was saying before, it was hard on the Marquis di Savelli, a gallant noble whom I frequently saw--pardon, your excellency, it is but a scratch after all--had you not moved so suddenly, still only a scratch, nothing for a soldier. The Marquis di Savelli, as I said, was a regular customer of mine, and he had a lovely head of hair, your excellency. It was not so much before I took him in hand. _Ecco!_ but in a month you should have seen! He came in here in his free easy way, and flung me ten crowns. 'Buy a ribbon for Madonna Giulia with that, Messer Pazzi,' says he; 'and harkee, send me over six more bottles of your elixir of St. Symmachus. _Maldetto!_' he exclaimed, twisting his curls between his fingers, 'but she adores me now.' Now who, I say, could _she_ have been but--_tchick_? _Diavolo_? it is done; never a cleaner shave in Rome itself. If your excellency's fortune grows as well as your hair, I could wish you no better luck."