"Per Bacco! Signor Donati, but you know too much. I am more and more your debtor."
"The hundred crowns have repaid me," I replied as I took my departure, having said all I dared say of the plot without breaking my pledge of secrecy to Ceci.
Now it happened that as I gained the corridor, I saw in the dim light a figure retreating hastily before me; but with noiseless footsteps, and having in mind the strange attempt to play the spy on us, I made no doubt but that here was the culprit, and followed up. I saw the figure turn at the end of the corridor and enter another gallery, then another, and yet another, finally vanishing as it were against the wall. Owing to my not knowing the way properly, and to the semi-gloom, I was unable to follow fast enough to overtake the spy, who flitted before me like a ghost, but in a very human hurry. When at length I came up to the wall, I looked to see if there was a door of any kind; but could discern nothing, and was so astonished that for a moment I felt a little chilled, thinking that it may have been a spirit after all. Fortifying myself, however, with the thought that if it was a spirit, it seemed in no way anxious to meet me, I went to a closer examination, and saw by the moonlight that I was before a door, painted in exact imitation of the marble wall. This settled my doubts, and putting my shoulder to it, I made a trial, with all my strength, to force the passage, but in vain. I therefore gave up the matter, and turned to find my way back. This was, however, easier said than done. I could not find the gallery I wanted, and after groping about hopelessly for a little time, thought that I had best give a shout, which would no doubt summon some one to my aid. I was just about to carry this into execution, when, on further reflection, it struck me that I might be landed in other difficulties thereby, and that I might make another try to free myself, without bringing the house about my ears, and perhaps compromising the secretary, who had, I saw, an active and enterprising enemy under his own roof. So I stilled my tongue and made further exploration, with the result that I found myself before a stairway, that led to the floor below me, and determined to see where this would take me. Accordingly I descended as softly as possible, and arrived in a few steps at a small landing, covered by a carpet so thick, that I felt as if I was treading on the softest of moss. At the end of the landing, and opposite to me, was a half-opened door, the room inside being in light. Stepping noiselessly up to the door I peered in, and saw a chamber furnished with the utmost luxury, and apparently just vacated by its occupants. In a corner of the room stood a harp, lying on a table close to a low luxurious seat were some articles of dainty feminine embroidery; soft silken curtains shrouded the walls, and the ceiling was painted, apparently with some representation of the history of the house. A white marble figure of Cupid held out at arm's length a lamp, whose opal shade softened its bright light; and on a gilded triangle, set in an alcove, swung a blue and scarlet macaw--a rare Eastern bird--who, with his head tucked under his wing, slept in a position which would be intolerable torture to any other created thing except a bird. It was clear that I had invaded the private sitting-room of the ladies, or lady of the household; and I was about to beat a hasty retreat, when the screen of an inner room was swung aside, and I saw before me my two unknowns of the Garden of St. Michael, and the giver of the tari which had saved me from death. It was too late to go back now, as the sound of my feet on the marble stairs would certainly reach, and perhaps alarm them, tread I ever so softly; so I resolved to stay where I was until they retired again, and then go back. This I judged would be very shortly as it was late. I had not however sufficient experience then, of the lengths to which those nocturnal confidences, in which the fair sex indulge with each other, extend. In the meantime I could not but admire the graceful figures before me, and especially of her, who had given me the tari. Clad in a soft clinging robe, clasped by a jewel at her throat, and a silver girdle round her waist, with her pale proud features set in a mass of dark hair, she seemed to me an embodiment of pure womanhood, and I thought how lucky the man would be who could have such a companion to help him through life. I guessed also that the other was the wife of Machiavelli, being aided thereto by her statement, when I drove Luigi off, that her husband was one who could help me much. At the same time I could not but feel some pity in my heart for her, when I thought she was wedded to a man of a character so contradictory as that of the Secretary, who could leave a fair wife for the sake of indulging in low dissipation, and come back after a narrow escape with his life, to bury himself in matters of state, or in the perusal of the ancients. However there was no sign of sorrow on her fair and mirthful face, as with all the teasing nature of a kitten, she walked up to the macaw and stirred him up with her white fingers, an attention he did not appear to relish, for he ruffled his plume, and let forth an ear-piercing shriek.
"Heavens!" she laughed, "how that bird screams! He is almost as cross as you, Angiola."
"Thanks," replied the other; "I do sympathise with the bird though, for you never leave off teasing. It is enough to make a saint cross, Marietta."
"Well, I won't tease any more," and Marietta put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "I am sure though it was he, and I will have that last word."
I wondered to whom the reference was made, as Angiola replied: "I really do not care if it was; but there is a draught, and I must shut this door."
She came up so quickly that there was no time to retreat, and in a moment I was discovered.
She gave a little cry, and stepped back.
"Who are you, sir? How dare you----!"