u to Heaven."

"It might end in your own dispatch to Hell," said I. "Shall we essay
it?"

"Body of God!" he snarled, laughter still lingering on his white face.
"Is this the mood of your holiness at present? What a bloodthirsty brave
are you become! Consider, pray, sir, that if you trouble me I have no
need to do my own office of hangman. There is sufficient against you
to make the Tribunal of the Ruota very busy; there is--can you have
forgotten it?--that little affair at the house of Messer Fifanti."

I dropped my glance, browbeaten for an instant. Then I looked at him
again, and smiled.

"You are but a poor coward, Messer Cosimo," said I, "to use a shadow as
a screen. You know that nothing can be proved against me unless Giuliana
speaks, and that she dare not for her own sake. There are witnesses who
will swear that Gambara went to Fifanti's house that night. There is not
one to swear that Gambara did not kill Fifanti ere he came forth
again; and it is the popular belief, for his traffic with Giuliana
is well-known, as it is well-known that she fled with him after the
murder--which, in itself, is evidence of a sort. Your Duke has too great
a respect for the feelings of the populace," I sneered, "to venture to
outrage them in such a matter. Besides," I ended, "it is impossible to
incriminate me without incriminating Giuliana and, Messer Pier Luigi
seems, I should say, unwilling to relinquish the lady to the brutalities
of a tribunal."

"You are greatly daring," said he, and he was pale now, for in that last
mention of Giuliana, it seemed that I had touched him where he was still
sensitive.

"Daring?" I rejoined. "It is more than I can say for you, Ser Cosimo.
Yours is the coward's fault of caution."

I thought to spur him. If this failed, I was prepared to strike him, for
my temper was beyond control. That he, standing towards me as he did,
should dare to mock me, was more than I could brook. But at that moment
there spoke a harsh voice just behind me.

"How, sir? What words are these?"

There, very magnificent in his suit of ivory velvet, stood the Duke. He
was leaning heavily upon his cane, and his face was more blotched than
ever, the sunken eyes more sunken.

"Are you seeking to quarrel with the Lord of Mondolfo?" quoth he, and I
saw by his smile that he used my cousin's title as a taunt.

Behind him was Cavalcanti with Bianca leaning upon his arm just as I had
seen her that day when she came with hi