Half-chaunting, half-talking, to an accompaniment of soft-touched chords, he ended with a little shrug of abandonment, and dropped the lute from his fingers. His voice had been small and low, but pure; the sweet thrum of the strings had lifted it to rhapsody. Messer Lanti scratched his head.
'Well, if that is a parable!' he puzzled. 'But supposing it aims at our case, why—Casa Caprona is neither poor nor dead; and as to a jewel——'
He looked at Madam Beatrice, who was frowning and biting her lip.
'Why heed the peevish stuff?' she said. 'Will you come? I am sick to be moving.'
Carlo was suddenly illuminated.
'O, to be sure, of course!' he ejaculated—'the jewel——'
'Hold your tongue!' cried the lady sharply.
The honest blockhead went into a roar of laughter.
'He has touched thee, he has touched thee! And these are his means to convert the Duke! By Saint Ambrose, 'twill be a game to watch! I swear he shall go with us.'
'Not with my consent,' cried madam.