“Now that is very strange!” muttered the Duke, much struck by this whittling down of Cosimo's chances, whilst Cosimo shrugged impatiently and smiled contemptuously. “You seem to be greatly versed in these matters, Ser Galeotto,” added Farnese.
“He who would succeed in whatever he may undertake should qualify to read all signs,” said Galeotto sententiously. “I have sought this knowledge.”
“Do you see aught in me that you can read?” inquired the Duke in all seriousness.
Galeotto considered him a moment without any trace in his eyes of the wicked mockery that filled his soul. “Why,” he answered slowly, “not in your own person, magnificent—leastways, not upon so brief a glance. But since you ask me, I have lately been considering the new coinage of your highness.”
“Yes, yes!” exclaimed the Duke, all eagerness, whilst several of his followers came crowding nearer—for all the world is interested in omens. “What do you read there?”
“Your fate, I think.”
“My fate?”
“Have you a coin upon you?”
Farnese produced a gold ducat, fire-new from the mint. The condottiero took it and placed his finger upon the four letters P L A C—the abbreviation of “Placentia” in the inscription.
“P—L—A—C,” he spelled. “That contains your fate, magnificent, and you may read it for yourself.” And he returned the coin to the Duke, who stared at the letters foolishly and then at this reader of omens.