t be if he were
let alone. Another foible he had--intellectual appreciation of beauty
pushed to fainting-point. His senses were so straitly tied to his brains
that to pluck at one was to thrill the other. Made on a small scale, he
was pretty rather than handsome, had quiet watchful eyes, a smiling
mouth, very little hands and feet. He seldom dressed out of black
velvet, and if he wanted a man assassinated had the thing done at so
many removes that it was always entered "private quarrel" or "love
affair" in the reports of the City Watch. He generally chose friars for
business of the sort, because they could be about at night without
suspicion, and their hanging sleeves gave them such a pull. For cup or
fruit work he found ladies the only possible agents. No one in Nona
would dream of taking wine from a man; and as for presents of figs,
Grifone was maturely of opinion that the last and present Pontiffs had
exhausted that pretty artifice. Finally, you can easily understand how
useful Duke Amilcare found a demure lad of this kind in the matter of
moulding his new State.

When his master brought him a mistress he gave her great attention. Like
all clever fellows, he was at first disposed to set down her simplicity
to her credit; but after watching her for some time, he decided that
here was actually a soul clear as glass--thing of inestimable value in a
country where lying was an axiom of politics--and his respect for her
quickened into something more. If she had been only beautiful she would
never have attracted him as she did. There were plenty of women in Italy
handsome enough for his needs (the flower of whose amours were mostly
for the mind); but simpletons were rarer. This tall wistful girl told
the truth--but told it incredibly! Think of this. Shortly after the
coronation, Bentivoglio, the chalk-faced tyrant of Bologna, came with an
army on his way to Forli. He had an old grudge against Nona. Finding
himself within a league of its walls, his men lusty and well-fed, his
artillery in great train, Nona (as he judged it) in ferment--he
blockaded the place, and in due time summoned it to surrender. Amilcare
laughed at him, told his wife (in secret) that he would attack on the
morrow, and went to the Council. While he was there came a new summons
from Bentivoglio, a messenger with a white flag. Word was sent to the
Duke; the Duke could not be found. "Oh," said one, "seek Madonna for
answer." This was done.

"Tell the Lord