, "we are the most
married couple in the world!"

"H'm," was all Borso had to say to that. "And who made her of Madama's
Court?"

"It was your Grace."

"Oh, of course, of course, man! But why the deuce did I do it?"

"It was at the request of Count Guarino Guarini, Magnificence?"

"Eh, eh! now I recollect. Ah, to be sure! That must be a very agreeable
reflection for you at this moment, my friend," he said, with a sly look.

Angioletto took the equivoque with dignity, "I have perfect confidence
in my wife, my lord Duke."

Borso shrugged. "Well, it is your affair--not mine," he said. Then he
changed his tone. "I think, however, we will come back to what is my
affair as well as yours. Be so good as to tell me how you came here."

"I came down the chimney," said Angioletto calmly. "I am by calling a
chimney-sweep."

"Upon my word," Borso said, "this is a fine story I am piecing together!
How long have you been of that trade, pray?"

Angioletto received this shot with firmness, even dignity. "I was
formerly a poet attached to the Court, Magnificence. But when Madama
turned me away it became necessary that I should see my young wife; so I
became a chimney-sweep for the purpose."

The Duke's mouth twitched too much for his own dignity. He pulled the
bedclothes up to his nose, therefore, before he asked--

"Why did Madama turn you away, sir?"

Angioletto, for the first time, was confused. He hung his head.

"I hope your Grace will not insist upon an answer," he replied in a
troubled voice.

Borso looked keenly at him for a time. "No, I think I will not," said
he. "Are you the lad who sang me the _Caccia col falcone_?"

"The same, my lord Duke."

"I thought so. Now, sir, to come back to this performance of yours,
which I suppose is not the first by any means--eh?"

"It appears to be the last, my lord," said Angioletto ruefully.

"I think it is the last," replied the Duke; "for I hope you understand
that I can have you clapped into gaol for it."

"Pardon, Magnificence--he can do more. He can have me hanged for it."

"I don't agree with you," said Borso. "If my name were Ferdinand of
Arragon, or Sforza, or della Rovere, yes; but being Borso d'Este, no."

"Your Grace puts me to shame," said Angioletto, with feeling. "I am to
take it then--"

"You shall take it as you please, my friend," Borso rejoined, with his
chin once more upon his clasped knees. "For my part I propose to take
_you_ and keep you unde