Image Attribution: Unknown (Public domain)
But, all the same, the next morning, the seventh of January, a Tuesday, the search began again. And this time there was a guide. It was one of the Duke’s pages and he was said to have seen, from a distance, his master fall; now he was to show them the place. He himself had said nothing, the Duke of Campobasso had brought him and had spoken for him. Now he was walking in front and the others kept close behind him. Anyone looking at him now, muffled up and oddly unsure of himself would have had trouble believing that it was actually Gian-Battista-Colonna, the page who was as beautiful and slender-limbed as a young girl. He was shivering with cold; the air was stiff with the night frost, and underfoot the snow sounded like teeth grinding together.
