. I have heard the story of how you came to
be Fool of the Court of Pesaro. Cesena is a dull place, and we might
enliven it by the presence of a jester of such nimble wits as yours."

He turned without awaiting my reply, and strode away to take his place
at table, whilst I walked slowly to my accustomed seat, and took little
part in the conversation that ensued, which, as you may imagine, had me
and that exploit of mine for scope.

Anon an elephantine trumpeting of laughter seemed to set the air
a-quivering. Ramiro was lying back in his chair a prey to such a passion
of mirth that it swelled the veins of his throat and brow until I
thought that they must burst--and, from my soul, I hoped they would.
Adown his rugged cheeks two tears were slowly trickling. The Lord
Filippo, as presently transpired, had been telling him of the epic I
had written in praise of the Lord Giovanni's prowess. Naught would now
satisfy that ogre but he must have the epic read, and Filippo, who had
retained a copy of it, went in quest of it, and himself read it aloud
for the delight of all assembled and the torture of myself who saw in
Madonna Paola's eyes that she accounted the deception I had practised on
her a thing beyond pardon.

Filippo had a taste for letters, as I think I have made clear, and he
read those lines with the same fire and fervour that I, myself, had
breathed into them two years ago. But instead of the rapt and breathless
attention with which my reading had been attended, the present company
listened with a smile, whilst ever and anon a short laugh or a quiet
chuckle would mark how well they understood to-night the subtle ironies
which had originally escaped them.

I crept away, sick at heart, while they were still making sport over my
work, cursing the Lord Giovanni, who had forced me to these things, and
my own mad mood that had permitted me in an evil hour to be so forced.
Yet my grief and bitterness were little things that night compared with
what Madonna was to make them on the morrow.

She sent for me betimes, and I went in fear and trembling of her wrath
and scorn. How shall I speak of that interview? How shall I describe the
immeasurable contempt with which she visited me, and which I felt was
perhaps no more than I deserved.

"Messer Biancomonte," said she coldly, "I have ever accounted you my
friend, and disinterested the motives that inspired a heart seemingly
noble to do service to a forlorn and helpless lady.