It was well that I took care. Fra Palamone was immediately underneath the window, grinning up, showing his long tooth, and picking at his beard. I do not think I ever saw such a glut of animal enjoyment in a man's face before. There was not the glimmer of a doubt what he intended. Semifonte had been told of his bondslave, and Palamone's hour of triumph was at hand. He would bring a warrant; no doubt he had it by him; he waited only for the police. I was laid by the heels.
A gust of anger, like a puff of hot wind, blew upon me and made my skin prick me. All that I had endured at this rascal's hands swelled within; and now I remembered also that I, a gentleman by birth and training, had been the galled slave of a low ruffian, who now intended to sell into vice and infamy an honest girl whom I was pledged to protect. Well- being, rehabilitation, the respect of my own world had done their work. He had to do with a man now, I told myself, not with a boy. I went to my bureau, took out, primed and cocked my pistols, returned to the window and showed myself full to the frate.
"I wish you good morning, Fra Palamone," I said. His grinning face grinned awry, I promise you; but he recovered himself and made a brave show.
"Buon di, Ser Francesco, buon di. You are betimes, I see. Or is it that you are belated like my injured friend Semifonte? The smarting of his honour has kept him from his bed, let me tell you. But he has gone thither now, I hope, appeased."
"You intend to appease him, I believe, in eight hours from now," said I. "The commissary will be at his chocolate at eight o'clock, at his office by eleven. It is now three."
"You are getting proficient in our tongue," he said, somewhat put out by my exactitude.
"Oh, I am proficient in more ways than one," I told him. "You taught me at Prato how to draw teeth, and I showed you, in the same town, how claws could be cut. What did you think of the carcere? Well, now I will show you another accomplishment I have. Draw teeth, cut claws! I can drill holes also, Palamone."
"What the devil are you talking about, poet?" says he, always quick to be amused.
"Why, this," I said. "I will come down to you in the Piazza. We have it to ourselves." I held up my pistol by the nozzle. He saw the butt. He said, "Oho! that's your work, is it? You are growing in grace, Don Francis; and I am not the little man to disoblige you. Many a score is on my slate to your name, and short scores make the longest friendships. Come down, my son, and play a better game than faro."
By the time I got down he had taken off his cloak and came smiling towards me with both his hands held out. He was going to embrace me—I knew that very well. He would have kissed me on both cheeks, warmly and with sincerity; and then, before his arms were loosed from my neck, by a sudden surging of his lust, he would have throttled me. All that was as clear in his looks as are the marks on this paper; but I could read my gentleman by now and was in no mood for his freakish humours. "Take warning," I said, "that if you move one step nearer to me I shoot you like a rabbit." I crooked my arm and levelled at him as I spoke. I suppose he saw truth in the mouth of the barrel, for he stopped, and looked at me, breathing hard.