the blood were being
exhausted from my heart, as if my limbs would refuse their office, and
I leaned for support against the terminal of the balustrade by which I
stood.

She saw me. And after the first slight start of astonishment, her lazy
smile grew broader and more insolent. I was but indifferently conscious
of the hustle about me, of the fact that Cavalcanti himself was holding
the Duke's stirrup, whilst the latter got slowly to the ground and
relinquished his falcon to a groom who wore a perch suspended from his
neck, bearing three other hooded birds. Similarly I was no more than
conscious of being forced to face the Duke by words that Cavalcanti was
uttering. He was presenting me.

"This, my lord, is Agostino d'Anguissola."

I saw, as through a haze, the swarthy, pustuled visage frown down upon
me. I heard a voice which was at once harsh and effeminate and quite
detestable, saying in unfriendly tones:

"The son of Giovanni d'Anguissola of Mondolfo, eh?"

"The same, my lord," said Cavalcanti, adding generously--"Giovanni
d'Anguissola was my friend."

"It is a friendship that does you little credit, sir," was the harsh
answer. "It is not well to befriend the enemies of God."

Was it possible that I had heard aright? Had this human foulness dared
to speak of God?

"That is a matter upon which I will not dispute with a guest," said
Cavalcanti with an urbanity of tone belied by the anger that flashed
from his brown eyes.

At the time I thought him greatly daring, little dreaming that,
forewarned of the Duke's coming, his measures were taken, and that
one blast from the silver whistle that hung upon his breast would have
produced a tide of men-at-arms that would have engulfed and overwhelmed
Messer Pier Luigi and his suite.

Farnese dismissed the matter with a casual laugh. And then a lazy,
drawling voice--a voice that once had been sweetest music to my ears,
but now was loathsome as the croaking of Stygian frogs--addressed me.

"Why, here is a great change, sir saint! We had heard you had turned
anchorite; and behold you in cloth of gold, shining as you would
out-dazzle Phoebus."

I stood palely before her, striving to keep the loathing from my face,
and I was conscious that Bianca had suddenly turned and was regarding us
with eyes of grave concern.

"I like you better for the change," pursued Giuliana. "And I vow
that you have grown at least another inch. Have you no word for me,
Agostino?"

I was