“Pay yourself,” added the unknown.
“I will do so, monsieur, since you so positively require it.”
A sad smile passed over the lips of the gentleman.
“Place the money on that trunk,” said he, turning round and pointing to the piece of furniture.
Cropole deposited a tolerably large bag as directed, after having taken from it the amount of his reckoning.
“Now,” said he, “I hope monsieur will not give me the pain of not taking any supper. Dinner has already been refused; this is affronting to the house of les Medici. Look, monsieur, the supper is on the table, and I venture to say that it is not a bad one.”
The unknown asked for a glass of wine, broke off a morsel of bread, and did not stir from the window whilst he ate and drank.
Shortly after was heard a loud flourish of trumpets; cries arose in the distance, a confused buzzing filled the lower part of the city, and the first distinct sound that struck the ears of the stranger was the tramp of advancing horses.
“The king! the king!” repeated a noisy and eager crowd.
“The king!” cried Cropole, abandoning his guest and his ideas of delicacy, to satisfy his curiosity.