"Sit, good father, sit," said Ramiro d'Orco, "I have news for you."
"Good news, I hope, my lord," replied Mardocchi. "I have some news for you, too; but mine is not the best; however, it matters but little."
"Mine matters much," said Ramiro d'Orco. "What think you, Mardocchi? Our friend, Lorenzo Visconti, has been appointed by the pope, at the instigation of Louis XII., King of France, Prefect of Romagna, and is about, in this fine weather, to make a tour through the exarchate and the legations. He must come to Imola of course; and I have letters here from that high and mighty prince Cæsar, Duke of Valentinois, requiring me, by the favour in which I stand with him, to receive the prefect with all due honour, and to make his time pass pleasantly. We will do it, Mardocchi--we will do it; for, although there is a very palpable hint in Borgia's missive that no harm is to be done to the cousin of King Louis, yet, perhaps, we can so manage that he shall find means to harm himself. He has an army at his back to help Cæsar Borgia in carving out a principality from the heart of Italy; but the vicars of the Holy See, and I as the humblest of them, must reverently crave his Holiness to spare us the burden of the prefect's troops. We will receive him gladly with a noble train, but methinks we cannot admit an armed French force within our walls."
"Of course," replied Mardocchi, "that would be selling yourself to the devil without pay. But I should think he would not come to Imola. He cannot like to show himself before your eyes--and, if he did come, it would be somewhat painful to the signora your daughter."
"He will come--he will come," replied Ramiro; "and he shall be gallantly received. Fêtes and festivals shall greet him; he shall have every reverence and every joy. He shall be taught to think that we can forget as easily as he can; but he shall find that to slight the daughter of Ramiro d'Orco is to tread upon an asp. As for my Leonora, she has a proud and a noble heart. I have seen all the struggles--I have marked the terrible conflict in her breast, and she has come out victorious. My word for it, she will meet the young prefect and his fair wife with all calm courtesy, greet him as an old friend, and seem never to remember that he betrayed her unsuspecting heart, slighted her love, and left her to disappointment and regret."
"That is all very good for the beginning," said Mardocchi, who was quite a practical man; "but how does your lordship intend to proceed in the more weighty part of the business? This Lorenzo Visconti is not so easily reached as people might suppose. I told you how he killed my friend and lord, Buondoni, under the very nose of the Duke of Milan--a better man than Signor Buondoni never lived--and, if my advice had been taken, and a dagger used instead of a sword, the youth would not have troubled us any more; but Buondoni was always fond of the sword, and of doing things openly, and so----"
"I know the whole history better than even you do, my friend," replied Ramiro d'Orco; "Buondoni did like the sword, but he liked it well anointed, and this Lorenzo would have died had I not cured him. His life is mine, for I saved it for him; but as to how I shall proceed I cannot yet determine. That must depend upon the time and circumstances of his coming; but I have thought it needful to have you warned and prepared in the matter; for on your skill and assistance I rely, and you know I never forget services rendered any more than offences given."
Mardocchi made no answer for a few minutes, but remained gazing in silent thought upon the ornamented floor, until, at length, Ramiro exclaimed:
"You make no answer, friar; what are you thinking of?"
"I was thinking," said Mardocchi slowly, "of what a glorious thing it would be if we could so entangle him that we could make him not only forfeit his own life, but also that honour and renown of which he is so proud. Such things have been done, my lord, and may be done again. I have heard that when Galeazzo was Duke of Milan, he got a cavalier to poison his own sister to save her honour, as he thought, then proved the crime upon him, and put him to the rack. Now, this Lorenzo, if I have heard rightly, cares little for mere life--nay, would almost thank the man who took it from him."