tood.

"If it is Madonna Valentina you seek," said he, "behold her yonder."

And Gian Maria, following the indication of Peppe's lean finger, saw
that she had rejoined her ladies and that thus his opportunity of
speaking with her was at an end. He turned his shoulder upon the jester,
and moved ponderously towards the door by which he had originally
entered the room. It had been well for Ser Peppe had he let him go. But
the fool, who loved his mistress dearly, and had many of the instincts
of the faithful dog, loving where she loved and hating where she hated,
could not repress the desire to send a gibe after the retreating figure,
and inflict another wound in that much wounded spirit.

"You find it a hard road to Madonna's heart, Magnificent," he called
after him. "Where your wisdom is blind be aided by the keen eyes of
folly."

The Duke stood still. A man more dignified would have left that
treacherous tongue unheeded. But Dignity and Gian Maria were strangers.
He turned, and eyed the figure that now followed him into the room.

"You have knowledge to sell," he guessed contemptuously.

"Knowledge I have--a vast store--but none for sale, Lord Duke. Such as
imports you I will bestow if you ask me, for no more than the joy of
beholding you smile."

"Say on," the Duke bade him, without relaxing the grimness that
tightened his flabby face.

Peppe bowed.

"It were an easy thing, most High and Mighty, to win the love of Madonna
if----" He paused dramatically.

"Yes, yes. E dunque! If----?"

"If you had the noble countenance, the splendid height, the shapely
limbs, the courtly speech and princely manner of one I wot of."

"Are you deriding me?" the Duke questioned, unbelieving.

"Ah, no, Highness! I do but tell you how it were possible that my lady
might come to love you. Had you those glorious attributes of him I speak
of, and of whom she dreams, it might be easy. But since God fashioned
you such as you are--gross of countenance, fat and stunted of shape,
boorish of----"

With a roar the infuriated Duke was upon him. But the fool, as nimble of
legs as he was of tongue, eluded the vicious grasp of those fat hands,
and leaping through the window, ran to the shelter of his mistress's
petticoats.

CHAPTER VII. GONZAGA THE INSIDIOUS

Well indeed had it been for Ser Peppe had he restrained his malicious
mood and curbed the mocking speech that had been as vinegar to
Gian Maria's wounds. For when Gian Mar