CHAPTER IV.
THE suggestion quite accorded with my inclination to compare the chambers of the brothers, and I did not hesitate to adopt it. I followed my host, who, opening the door, paused in front of me to show me the way.
This time I found myself in a regular arsenal. All the furniture was of the fifteenth or sixteenth century—the carved and canopied bedstead, supported by great posts, was draped with green damask à fleur d’or; the window curtains were of the same material. The walls were covered with Spanish leather, and in the open spaces were sustained trophies of Gothic and modern arms.
There was no mistaking the tastes of the occupant of this room: they were as warlike as those of his brother were peaceable.
“Look here,” he said, passing into an inner room, “here you are in three centuries at once—see! I will dress while you amuse yourself, for I must make haste or supper will be announced.”
“Which are the historic arms of which you spoke amongst all these swords, arquebuses, and poignards?” I asked.
“There are three. Let us take them in order. If you look by the head of my bed you will find a poignard with a very large hilt—the pommel forms a seal.”
“Yes, I have it.”
“That is the dagger of Sampietro.”
“The famous Sampietro, the assassin of Vanina?”