Borso's eyes twinkled, and he primmed his lips. "I do not go so far as Madama, Master Angioletto, but I shall be pleased to hear what you are pleased to give me." He fell into an attitude of profound attention.
Angioletto, having bowed once more, began.
It so happened that Lorenzo de' Medici, that monster of genius, had not long printed his Caccia col falcone. Angioletto had it by heart against his need; using it now he could never have made a better choice—as, indeed, he guessed. It was as good as a play to watch Borso's wary eyes at the commencement of this piece, and to see them drop their fence as the declamation went on. Lorenzo begins with a pretty description of the dawn on Tuscan hilltops—
"Era già rosso tutto l'oriente,
E le cime de' monti parien d'oro," etc.
Borso, neither approving nor disapproving, kept his head disposed for more. At
"Quando fui desto da certi rumori
Di buon sonagli ed allettar di cani"
he began to blink; with the quick direction to the huntsman—
"Deh, vanne innanzi, presto Capellaio,"