Hearing this, Arnoldo put his hand into his breast, and drew forth a chain of gold, with a jewel set in diamonds suspended from it, and said, "Take this chain, which, with the jewel, is worth two thousand crowns, and deliver up the picture to me."
"This is worth ten thousand," said the duke, giving a diamond chain to the painter. "Bring it to my house."
"Holy Saints!" cried one of the bystanders, "what can this picture be? and what can these men and jewels mean? This looks like a case of enchantment, and I would advise thee, friend painter, to look well at the chain, and try the reality of the diamonds before you part with your property, for both chain and jewels may be false, as one may suspect by the exaggerated account of their value."
The princes grew angry upon this, but not being desirous of letting the whole street know their thoughts, they consented that the master of the picture should ascertain the real value of the jewels. The crowd in the street now changed their note, some admiring the picture, others asking who the pilgrims could be, others looking at the jewels, and all watching eagerly to see who would get the picture, because it seemed as if the two pilgrims would have it at any price.
Its owner would willingly have sold it for much less than they offered, if they would have let him sell it freely to either.
Whilst this was going on, the governor of Rome came by, and heard the noise the people were making; he inquired the cause, and saw the picture and the jewels. They, appearing to him to be the property of no ordinary pilgrims, he hoped to discover some secret, and ordered the jewels and picture to be taken to his house, and to take the pilgrims thither also. The painter was left in consternation, seeing all his expectations thus threatened with defeat, and his property in the power of justice, whence it seldom returns again with undiminished lustre.
The painter flew to seek out Periander, and relate to him all the story of the purchase, and of his fears that the governor would keep the picture, which he had bought, he said, in France, from a painter who had sketched it in Portugal from the original, a thing which seemed to Periander very likely, during the time Auristella had been at Lisbon. He then offered to give him a hundred crowns for it, and run the risk of recovering it. The painter was satisfied, and although the descent from a thousand to a hundred crowns was so great, yet he considered he had made a good bargain.
Whilst they were talking, the Jew Zabulon arrived, and told Periander that he wished to take him that evening to see one of the most beautiful women in Rome, indeed, in all Italy, Hippolyta the Ferrarese. Periander said he would go willingly, and this not on account of her beauty of person, nor of her quality, for the courtesy of Periander was the same whether with the high or the low, for in this had Nature cast both him and Auristella in one mould. He concealed from her that he was going to visit Hippolyta, and the Jew carried him thither more by deceit than any wish of his to go, but sometimes curiosity helps to deceive, and blinds even the most cautious and prudent.
