"Well," I said, "have you had enough of this?" and I emphasised the question with a sharp prick.
"Mercy!" he called out, thinking his last hour come, and scrabbled on to the pavement.
"Be off with you then!" I said, and assisted his departure with a hearty kick as he rose. He needed no second bidding, but made off at a good pace.
When his figure mingled up with the haze, and was lost to view, I proceeded on my way wondering a little at the incident. I could not help connecting it with the affair in the Secretary's room--the man I had chased up the endless galleries of his house, and the attempt at murder in the Marzocco Inn. Why was I followed? I could not make this out; but thankful that I had escaped with a whole skin, climbed up the winding stairway of the tower which led to my chamber. Carefully shutting the door, I lit my candle, and emptied out the contents of the bag I had received from Machiavelli on to my bed so that the coins might make no sound.
CHAPTER XI.
[THE LETTER TO D'AMBOISE.]
I could have thrown my cap over the housetops, I could have shouted for joy, as I saw the coins spread out before me. I stooped over them, holding the candle aloft in one hand, whilst I ran the fingers of the other through the clinking metal. There they lay! broad, shining pieces of silver, flecked, here and again, with the mellower light of gold. At one stroke, when my luck was apparently at its lowest ebb, it had turned again, and was coming up in high tide. Not only this, I was to go to Rome, the very place of all others where I was likely to meet D'Entrangues; and I breathed an impious prayer, that good angels might see he came to no hurt until we met, and even as I prayed the vision of that dying woman who forgave with her last breath, came before me. My hand shook so that I could barely hold the candle, and turning away, I placed it on the table and went up to my window. Midnight was long past and we were touching the morning. The only sound that broke the stillness was the distant clang of the martinello, keeping up its insistent beat; but the wind was from me, and the chime came softened to my ears. Already the east was whitening, and the moon was sinking to rest. All the old half-formed resolutions I had made, to let my enemy's crime pass, to leave vengeance in the hands of God, came up and fought with the fierce desire that the apparent opportunity of meeting D'Entrangues again, had fanned into life. What had not that man done to me? How could I forgive? We are all not framed in the same way. A tender woman might condone what man would never pass over. Why should I not be the instrument of God's punishment on that man? Without Him nothing was possible, and if I succeeded in killing D'Entrangues would it not mean that the deed had his sanction? On the other hand, there were the words of Savonarola's text, and the forgiveness I had seen with mine own eyes. Tossed by doubt, now resolved, now wavering--at one time certain I was right to be my own law, at another encompassed by a terrible fear of sin--I did what all men have to do at some time or other: I sank down on my knees, and wrestled with the temptation. I do not know what words of prayer I used, or how long I was there; but I can say this, that when I rose, my mind was at rest, and I had won a fight with myself. I would leave D'Entrangues to the justice of God. And for my honour? I would win it back again, not in distant lands, but here--here, where it was taken from me, and then--what a fool I was! When my shield was white once more, I would sheathe my sword, rebuild our old castle in the Sabine Hills, and there, perhaps--oh! I dreamed mad things when that peace fell upon me. But there was such a prosaic matter as sleep, and I had work for the morrow, so I pulled myself together, and with a mind more comfortable than for many a day, swept the coins into the bag, saw again to the fastening of the door, and, seeking my bed, slept a dreamful sleep until aroused by the cooing of my friends the pigeons. It was with a very different air that I went down the stairs that morning, and I realised, from contrast, how brave a heart a full purse can make. I meant to have paid Ceci at once, but he was not in his office, so I breakfasted in a leisurely manner, at the sign of the Double Florin and then returned.
As soon as I reached the Albizzi Palace, I went straight to Ceci's office, and found him engaged in conversation with a man. The latter started when he saw me, and hurriedly took his departure; but not before I recognised in him Ceci's nephew, and my shadow of last night. He gave me no friendly look as he went out; perhaps he was sore with the memory of the end of my boot, and I had a mind to give him the day, but prudently held my tongue between my teeth. Ceci was looking much disturbed and annoyed, and I laughed secretly to myself as I thought that, after all, I had been the instrument of upsetting the political plot to murder, in which the old conspirator had a share.
"A good day to you, Messer Ceci," I said. "I have come to settle my account."
"It is of long standing," he replied, somewhat brusquely; but I was not going to lose my temper, as I had things to find out.