o out." He sat up
in bed, clasped his knees, and frowned a little. "It is clean against
the traditions of my house," he ruminated, "but I think I will go. And
the sooner the better."

Suiting action to word, he had one foot on the floor when Angioletto,
with a long sigh, opened his eyes, turned over, and saw him.

"The devil!" said Duke Borso.

"Madonna," was his second venture, when he had recognised the
impropriety of his first, "Madonna, I am this moment about to retire--"

Angioletto, whose eyes had attained their fullest stretch of wonder,
opened his mouth--but not to speak. He gaped at the lord of the land.

"Madonna--" Borso began once more. Then the other found his voice--

"Alas, my lord Duke, it is Madonna I thought to find. Where is my wife?"

That was Borso's cue to stare.

"Your wife?" he cried, "your wife! Heaven above us, man, why the devil
should your wife be in my bed?"

Angioletto, with the deepest respect always, suffered a smile to play
askew about his lips.

"Alas, Magnificence," he said, "if I dared I would ask him, why the
devil he should be in my wife's bed?"

It was the youth's way to preface his audacities by the assurance that
he dared not utter them. But the retort pleased Borso. His eyes began to
twinkle.

"Look ye, young gentleman," said he, suppressing his wish to chuckle,
"if this is your wife's bed, I am sorry for you, for I give you my word
she has not been in it to-night. But I confess I should like to know why
your wife has a bed in my house."

Angioletto nodded gravely.

"I should be the last person to deny your Grace's right to all
information. Bellaroba is my dear wife's name, her country is Venice,
her duties are to be about Madama Lionella's person. My own duties are
to be about hers, so far as I may."

"Fair and softly, my friend," said the Duke, "not so fast, if you
please. Do you know that Maids of Honour may not marry without
permission, and, in any case, may not be visited by their husbands
during their service?"

"Magnificence, she was not married without permission. Or rather, she
was married before permission was needed."

"Eh, how may that be now?" said Borso, tucking in his chin. "Did she
come here as Signora Qualcosa?"

"She came here as Bellaroba, Magnificence. No one knows of our marriage
but your Grace and the Holy Virgin."

"Then you are not married, but should be. That is your meaning--eh?"

"Ah, by Heaven, Magnificence," cried Angioletto