r lock and key for a season--as at present
advised."

Angioletto bowed, as well as one may who is sitting up in a very soft
bed. His voice was quite meek.

"I shall in all duty obey your Grace's directions, and will leave behind
me but one small request, which I am persuaded Borso d'Este will not
refuse his prisoner."

"And what is that, my good friend?"

"It is the care for the person and honour of my wife, my lord Duke,"
answered Angioletto.

This set Borso rubbing his nose. He thought before he spoke again.

"As for your wife's person, my man," said he, "it will be as safe in my
dominions as all persons, whatever their ages or conditions. Her honour
is another affair. That is neither for me nor my laws, but for herself.
And perhaps you will let me add that if to-night is a sample of her
course of living, you are putting upon me a rather onerous charge."

"My Lord, my Lord," cried Angioletto here, "I will answer for my wife's
honour with my last drop of blood. It is her person I cannot answer for
if I am in prison."

"I have told you that I will answer for her person, master poet. I would
much rather leave her honour to you and your drops of blood. So you may
go to the Castle with a clear mind. To the Castle, moreover, you shall
undoubtedly go, if it is only to teach you that the possession of a wife
is no passport to other men's chimneys. First, however, I will ask you
to do me a small service, which is to go to my bedchamber and send me my
gentlemen, my dresser, and my clothes. I am, you perceive, entirely at
your mercy. You will follow these persons back to me here, and will then
give yourself up as I shall direct."

Angioletto, out of bed by this time, knelt to the Duke's hand.

"I am your Grace's servant," said he. He hastily dressed himself and
went about the business he was bidden on.

"Madam the Virgin," said Borso, with a half-laugh, "that is a fine young
man! If he had not made so free with my chimneys I would advance him.
Advanced he shall be!" he cried out after a while. "Zounds! has not
Guarino made free with his wife? Eh, but I fear it." He shook his
nightcap at the thought. "A couple of days' reflection in a half light
will do the lad no harm. He'll dream of his wife, or compose me some
songs. Bellaroba, he called her. I remember the jade--a demure,
rosy-cheeked little cat, for ever twiddling her fingers or her
apron-ends. Those sleek ones are the worst. Poor boy! I'll advance him.
He shal