"Ay, sir, judge when you know them well," answered Antonio. "Your pardon, excellent lord; but hear a word or two more. He who was more than a father to you, placed me near you to serve you, not only with my limbs, but with my tongue--in the way of counsel, I mean. This man has benefited you. Be grateful to him; but be not the less on your guard. Give him no power over you, lest he should abuse it. The smallest secret in the keeping of a wicked man is a sword over the head of him who trusted him. If we lock up our own money, how much more should we lock up our thoughts. I have seen a mountebank's pig walk upon his hind legs; but I never saw one that could do it long at a time. If you wait and watch, cunning will always show itself in its true colours. The face of a man's nature is always too big for any mask he can buy, and some feature will always be uncovered by which you can know the man. No one can cover his whole person with a veil; and if you cannot judge by the face, you can find him out by the feet."
"Well, well," said Lorenzo, somewhat impatiently; "open that window wide, Antonio. My head aches, and I feel half suffocated. Then just smooth my bed, and put out that winking lamp. I should not have my chamber look like the room of an hospital."
Quick to comprehend, Antonio did not only what Lorenzo ordered, but much more, and set himself busily to give an air of trim neatness to the apartment, removing his master's bloody clothing which was lying on the ground, and placing on a stool clean linen and a new suit, but taking care to move neither the sword nor the arms, which had been cast negligently on the table. There was something picturesque in their arrangement that suited his fancy, and he let them remain. But in the course of his perquisitions he came to the silver flagon which had been brought by the page, and, after smelling to it, he asked, "Why, what is this?"
"Nay, I only know that it kept up my strength when I felt as if each moment I should die," answered Lorenzo. "I do not think even the antidote he applied to my arm would have been sufficient to save me but for its aid; the poison was so potent."
"Doubtless," replied Antonio; "but it gives me a secret how to accelerate your cure, my good lord--A wet napkin round his head will take off the head-ache, at all events," he muttered to himself; "but not just yet. Better let these men depart first.
"Now, Antonio, sit down and tell me all that has befallen since I sent you to Milan," said Lorenzo. "Did you find the small picture of my mother where old Beatrice told me it would be found?"
"Yes, my lord; but the case was much broken," replied Antonio. "Here it is."
As he spoke, he produced one of those miniature portraits which sometimes even the most celebrated artists of the day were pleased to paint, and handed it to Lorenzo. It was fixed in an embossed case of gilded brass; but as the man had said, the back of the case had been apparently forced sharply open, so as to break the spring lock and one of the hinges.
Lorenzo took it, and, raising himself on his elbow, gazed at the features of a very lovely woman which the picture represented.
"And this was my mother!" he murmured, after looking at it for a long time; and then he added, in a still lower tone, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!"