Andrea Cavallo interposed to stop the rising quarrel.
"Do not mind the Lord of Civitella," he whispered to Bracciano. "He is drunk!"
"The rake! The ingrate!" growled Bracciano, "after my men opened the traps, in which the Vicar of the Church had caught him."
"Nay! If you gape at man's ingratitude, your mouth will be wide enough, ere you die, my lord," spoke Pandulph with a sardonic laugh. "And men in our day stand no more on precedence in plots than in love affairs,—do they, my lord Benilo?"
"Nay, I'll dispute no man's right to be hanged or quartered before me—least of all yours, my Lord Pandulph," the Chamberlain replied venomously.
"My lord Benilo," replied Pandulph, "you are, when drunk, the greatest ruffian in Christendom, and the biggest knave when sober. Bring in more tankards, and we will not look for day till midnight booms again on the old tower of San Sebastian! I call for full brimmers, varlets,—bring your largest cups! We will drink another toast five fathoms deep in wine, strong enough to melt Cleopatra's pearls, and to a jollier dame than Egypt's queen."
The servitors flew out and in. In a few moments the table was replenished with huge drinking cups, silver flagons and all the heavy impediments of the army of Bacchus.
"We drink to the Fair Lady of the Groves,—and in her presence, too!" shouted the Lord of Spoleto, raising his goblet anew. "Why is she not among us? They say," he turned to Benilo with a sneer, "that you are so jealous of the charms of your bird of paradise, that you have forbidden her to appear before your friends."
Roaring peals of laughter crowned Pandulph's speech.
Benilo saw the absurdity of anger, but he felt it nevertheless.