. So bright and strong, and yet so
deferential did he look, pleading his cause among them, Lionella could
have kissed him again for nothing more than his dexterity.

"Ah, you shall do whatever you like, Angioletto!" she cried.

Borso's eyes twinkled, and he primmed his lips. "I do not go so far as
Madama, Master Angioletto, but I shall be pleased to hear what you are
pleased to give me." He fell into an attitude of profound attention.

Angioletto, having bowed once more, began.

It so happened that Lorenzo de' Medici, that monster of genius, had not
long printed his _Caccia col falcone_. Angioletto had it by heart
against his need; using it now he could never have made a better
choice--as, indeed, he guessed. It was as good as a play to watch
Borso's wary eyes at the commencement of this piece, and to see them
drop their fence as the declamation went on. Lorenzo begins with a
pretty description of the dawn on Tuscan hilltops--

"Era gia rosso tutto l'oriente,
E le cime de' monti parien d'oro," etc.

Borso, neither approving nor disapproving, kept his head disposed for
more. At

"Quando fui desto da certi rumori
Di buon sonagli ed allettar di cani"

he began to blink; with the quick direction to the huntsman--

"Deh, vanne innanzi, presto Capellaio,"

he stifled a smile. But the calling of the hounds by their names broke
down his guard. Angioletto shrilled them out in a high, boyish voice--

"Chiama Tamburo, Pezuolo e Martello,
La Foglia, la Castagna e la Guerrina,
Fagiano, Fagianin, Rocca e Capello,
E Friza, e Biondo, Bamboccio e Rossina,
Ghiotto, la Torta, Viola e Pestello,
E Serchio e Fuse e'l mio Buontempo vecchio,
Zambraco, Buratel, Scaccio e Pennecchio...."

Every muscle of the keen old hunter was now quivering; his eyes were
bright, his smile open and that of a child. To the last word of the
poem--and it has length--he followed without breath the checks, the
false casts, the bickering of the huntsmen, the petty incidents of a
breezy morning in the marshes, nodding at every point, missing nothing,
cracking his fingers, cheering under his breath, with delight
undisguised and interest unalloyed. The moment it was ended he seemed
prime for a burst of heedless comment; but he stopped, shut his lips
with a snap, and became the inscrutable ruler of a fief of the Empire
once more. But Angioletto knew that he had pleased him, for al