“Oh, a liar does not always lie.”
“Ay doth he whenever he tells an improbable story to begin, and shows you a holy relic; arms you against the Satanic host. Fiends (if any) be not so simple. Shouldst have answered him out of antiquity—
'Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.'
Some blackguard chopped his wife's head off on that stone, young man; you take my word for it.” And the friar hurried Gerard away.
“Alack, father, I fear you abashed the good priest.”
“Ay, by Pollux,” said the friar, with a chuckle; “I blistered him with a single touch of 'Socratic interrogation.' What modern can parry the weapons of antiquity.”
One afternoon, when Gerard had finished his day's work, a fine lackey came and demanded his attendance at the Palace Cesarini. He went, and was ushered into a noble apartment; there was a girl seated in it, working on a tapestry. She rose and left the room, and said she would let her mistress know.
A good hour did Gerard cool his heels in that great room, and at last he began to fret. “These nobles think nothing of a poor fellow's time.” However, just as he was making up his mind to slip out, and go about his business, the door opened, and a superb beauty entered the room, followed by two maids. It was the young princess of the house of Cesarini. She came in talking rather loudly and haughtily to her dependents, but at sight of Gerard lowered her voice to a very feminine tone, and said, “Are you the writer, messer?”
“I am, Signora.
“'Tis well.”