“Doubled?” he said. “Six hundred...?” He checked. The sum was vast. I saw greed creep into his little eyes. What had troubled him hitherto, I could not fathom even yet. He washed his bony hands in the air, and looked at his wife again. “It... it is a fair price, no doubt, my lord,” said he, his tone contemptuous.
“The Duke shall be informed of the value of your learning,” lisped the Cardinal.
Fifanti knit his brows. “The value of my learning?” he echoed, as if slowly puzzled. “My learning? Oh! Is that in question?”
“Why else should we give you the appointment?” smiled the Cardinal, with a smile that was full of significance.
“It is what the town will be asking, no doubt,” said Messer Fifanti. “I hope you will be able to satisfy its curiosity, my lord.”
And on that he turned, and stalked off again, very white and trembling, as I could perceive.
My Lord Gambara laughed carelessly again, and over the pale face of Monna Giuliana there stole a slow smile, the memory of which was to be hateful to me soon, but which at the moment went to increase my already profound mystification.
CHAPTER III. PREUX-CHEVALIER
In the days that followed I found Messer Fifanti in queerer moods than ever. Ever impatient, he would be easily moved to anger now, and not a day passed but he stormed at me over the Greek with which, under his guidance, I was wrestling.