“Ah; this is the Signora's first. The lesser vendetta, lady, is the death of the body only. We watch our man come out of a church; or take him in an innocent hour; and so deal with him. In the greater vendetta we watch him, and catch him hot from some unrepented sin, and so slay his soul as well as his body. But this vendetta is not so run upon now as it was a few years ago.”
“Man, silence me his tongue, and let his treasonable heart beat no more. But his soul I have no feud with.”
“So be it, signora. He who spoke to me knew not the man, nor his name, nor his abode. From whom shall I learn these?”
“From myself.”
At this the man, with the first symptoms of anxiety he had shown, entreated her to be cautious, and particular, in this part of the business.
“Fear me not,” said she. “Listen. It is a young man, tall of stature, and auburn hair, and dark blue eyes, and an honest face, would deceive a saint. He lives in the Via Claudia, at the corner house; the glover's. In that house there lodge but three males: he; and a painter short of stature and dark visaged, and a young, slim boy. He that hath betrayed me is a stranger, fair, and taller than thou art.”
The bravo listened with all his ears. “It is enough,” said he.
“Stay, Signora; haunteth he any secret place where I may deal with him?”
“My spy doth report me he hath of late frequented the banks of Tiber after dusk; doubtless to meet his light o' love, who calls me her rival; even there slay him! and let my rival come and find him; the smooth, heartless, insolent traitor.”
“Be calm, signora. He will betray no more ladies.”