"Oh, of course, of course, man! But why the deuce did I do it?"
"It was at the request of Count Guarino Guarini, Magnificence?"
"Eh, eh! now I recollect. Ah, to be sure! That must be a very agreeable reflection for you at this moment, my friend," he said, with a sly look.
Angioletto took the equivoque with dignity, "I have perfect confidence in my wife, my lord Duke."
Borso shrugged. "Well, it is your affair—not mine," he said. Then he changed his tone. "I think, however, we will come back to what is my affair as well as yours. Be so good as to tell me how you came here."
"I came down the chimney," said Angioletto calmly. "I am by calling a chimney-sweep."
"Upon my word," Borso said, "this is a fine story I am piecing together! How long have you been of that trade, pray?"
Angioletto received this shot with firmness, even dignity. "I was formerly a poet attached to the Court, Magnificence. But when Madama turned me away it became necessary that I should see my young wife; so I became a chimney-sweep for the purpose."
The Duke's mouth twitched too much for his own dignity. He pulled the bedclothes up to his nose, therefore, before he asked—