"Well spoken, Pandulph! Name the toast and we will pledge it, till the seven stars count fourteen and the seven hills but one," said the Cavallo looking up. "I see four hour glasses even now and every one of them lies, if it says it is dawn."
"You shall have my toast," said Pandulph, raising his goblet. "We have drunk it twenty times already, but we will drink it twenty times more:—the best prologue to wine ever devised by wit of man—Woman."
A shadow moved in the dusky background and peered unseen into the hall.
"And the best epilogue," replied the Lord of Civitella, visibly drunk. "But the toast—my cup is waiting."
"To the health—wealth—and love by stealth of Theodora!" yelled Pandulph, gulping down the contents of his goblet.
Benilo's face turned ashen pale, but he smiled.
"To Theodora!"
Every tongue repeated the name, the goblets were drained.
"My Lord, it is your turn now," said Pandulph, turning to the Lord of Civitella. "The good folks of Urbino have not yet rung the fire-bells against you, but some say they soon will. Who shall it be?"
The Lord of Civitella filled up his cup with unsteady hand, until it was running over and propping his body against the table as he stood up, he said: