'Jesus! Holy Virgin! Angels and martyrs!' he exclaimed. 'What? Your Excellency! Most shining lady——'
'Bernardo, you can do me a great service,' she looked round uneasily; 'but can any one hear us?'
'Be at ease, madam. No one except the rats and the mice.'
'Listen!' said Beatrice slowly, fixing her piercing eyes on his. 'I am aware that you have composed verses for Madonna Lucrezia; doubtless you have kept the letter of commission from the Duke.'
He turned pale, and observed her silently, consternation in his eyes.
'Fear nothing,' she continued; 'no one shall know. I shall study how to reward you, Bernardo.'
'Your Excellency!' stammered the unlucky poet, whose tongue had lost its glibness, 'do not believe—nay, 'tis all calumny! No letters—before God, I swear there are no letters!'
Her eyes flashed, and her brows contracted in an ominous frown. She rose and drew nearer, still fixing him with her gaze.
'Lie not. I know all. As you value your life, give me the Duke's letters. Give me them! Hear you? Bernardo, be careful, my servants are at the door. Think you I have come to jest with you?'
He fell before her on his knees.