e day."

"I hear Bufferio whistling in the street," she replied.

"He is even now placing the key in the door."

The stranger, as if perfectly satisfied with this intelligence, fell back
in his chair, with a suppressed sigh, and listened in an agony of fear to
the heavy footsteps on the staircase.

Bufferio appeared at the door, and looked distrustfully at the man who had
interrupted him at his game.

The ruffian Bufferio was of giant build. He was obliged to stoop in order
to enter the door. His head was thrown back defiantly, and his hand rested
upon the hilt of a dagger which was held by his girdle. A broad-brimmed
hat shaded his face; his whole dress was of dark-brown cloth, scarcely
distinguishable in the darkness of night. Under his prominent eyebrows
twinkled very small eyes, and a cruel, withering smile played about his
mouth.

He made an imperious gesture to the woman and pointed to the door. She
left the room grumbling, but gave no other evidence of dissatisfaction.

The ruffian shut the door, took a chair, and said to the stranger, in a
rough and coarse voice:

"_Perche me disturba?_ Why do you disturb me? Who are you?"

This question was very embarrassing to the stranger. He replied,
stammering:

"Is it necessary, Signor Bufferio, that you should know my name before
doing me a service for which I will pay you liberally?"

On hearing these words, the ruffian struck his forehead with his hand, as
if he thought he recognized the voice of the visitor; but he did not stop
to reflect longer.

"Come tell me quickly what you want; they are waiting for me at the tavern
of the _Silver Dice_, and I have no time to lose."

"It is an affair of importance, Signor Bufferio."

"Yes; my wife told me I might gain a few crowns of gold. Speak. Why do you
beat about the bush in this manner? What embarrasses you? Do you think
you are dealing with a dishonest man? Fear nothing. Not a hair of your
head shall be touched in my house."

This assurance restored the stranger's confidence, and he said, in a more
steady voice:

"Signor Bufferio, you must know that I have an enemy who insults and
outrages me, and who threatens to drive me to ruin."

"I understand. You wish to be avenged by my instrumentality."

"Yes, signor. How many golden crowns do you ask for such a service?"

"That depends upon the rank of the individual, and upon the kind of
service you desire. A few blows with a stick, a scratch on the face, do