"She has challenged me to come to her feast," she said in a low tone, audible only to Fabio. "Let her look to herself!"
And her eyes were alight with the desire of the meeting.
On an adjoining couch reclined the huge jelly of a man who looked like Pan, enormously swollen and bloated. His paunch bellied out over the table like a full blown sail. His face was stained with many a night of wine. The mulberry eyes twinkled merrily. The swollen lips babbled incessantly.
It was the Lord Boso of Caprara.
"They say that seven devils were cast out of Magdalene—" he turned to Roxana—
The Lord of Norba interposed.
"De mortuis nil nisi bene! Natura abhorret vacuum! I drink to the thirst to come!"
And he raised his goblet and tossed it off.
The Lord Atenulf rose to his feet, swaying and supporting himself with one hand on the table. His great swollen face, big as a ham, creased itself into merriment.
"Let the wine ferret out the thirst!" he shouted, and drained off his tankard.