"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.
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