He limped toward me; leaning heavily upon his stick, and it pleased me that of a good height though he was, he was forced to look up into my face.
“There is too much bad Anguissola blood in you,” he said. “Be careful lest out of our solicitude for you, we should find it well to let our leech attend you.”
I laughed, looking into his blotched face, considering his lame leg and all the evil humours in him.
“By my faith, I think it is your excellency needs the attentions of a leech,” said I, and flung all present into consternation by that answer.
I saw his face turn livid, and I saw the hand shake upon the golden head of his cane. He was very sensitive upon the score of his foul infirmities. His eyes grew baleful as he controlled himself. Then he smiled, displaying a ruin of blackened teeth.
“You had best take care,” he said. “It were a pity to cripple such fine limbs as yours. But there is a certain matter upon which the Holy Office might desire to set you some questions. Best be careful, sir, and avoid disagreements with my captains.”
He turned away. He had had the last word, and had left me cold with apprehension, yet warmed by the consciousness that in the brief encounter it was he who had taken the deeper wound.
He bowed before Bianca. “Oh, pardon me,” he said. “I did not dream you stood so near. Else no such harsh sounds should have offended your fair ears. As for Messer d'Anguissola...” He shrugged as who would say, “Have pity on such a boor!”
But her answer, crisp and sudden as come words that are spoken on impulse or inspiration, dashed his confidence.
“Nothing that he said offended me,” she told him boldly, almost scornfully.