"Magnificence," she said, "my hand is on my heart." It was.
"What the devil has that got to do with it?" asked Borso, looking about him for a reason.
"Serenity, if my heart were guilty, it would burn my hand. If my hand were red, it would soil my heart."
"Pouf!" said Borso, and puckered his face. "Stand back, Castaneve. Now for the little one. How are you called, baggage?"
Bellaroba shivered a very little, and looked solemn.
"Bellaroba, my lord."
"Very pretty; but I must have more."
"There is no more, my lord. I am wife of Angioletto."
"Well, well. I know Master Angioletto, and he me. We'll have him here, I think. Hi, you!" said he, turning to an officer of his guards. "Go and fetch the chimney-sweep."