"The same," I bowed, and offered him a chair.
"The devil!" he exclaimed, sinking into it, "but it is like an ascent to heaven for a sinner to reach you," and he mopped his face with a large handkerchief, "that curmudgeon downstairs, the intendant, flatly refused to inform me where you were, until I mentioned I came from the Secretary."
"You mentioned that!"
"Yes--or diavolo!--how was I to find you? Let me tell you, sir, your consequence was much increased thereby," he puffed rather than spoke.
"I do not doubt it," and I marvelled at Machiavelli having selected this garrulous fool to be the bearer of his letter.
Subsequently I discovered that the Secretary did this deliberately, in order, if complications arose, to be able to deny that he had any hand in a transaction, in which an obscure soldier like myself, and a notorious old scamp like Buonoccorsi had borne part. In fact he very often adopted an artifice such as this, namely first sending public despatches solemnly by a known official of state, and following them up at once by a secret letter, which either confirmed them, or put quite a different complexion on their meaning; taking care to choose his messengers in such a manner that he would have nothing to fear from failure of theirs.
"I have come with a letter for you," Buonoccorsi continued, and pulling from a breast pocket a sealed but unaddressed packet, he handed it to me. "His excellency," he said, "tells me you know what to do with this."
"I do," I gave answer, and examining the seals carefully, put the letter in the pocket of a vest, which I wore under my buff-coat.
"Then that is done," he replied, "and now, signore, have you anything to drink--my throat is like a limekiln?"
"I am sorry I have not, but if you will accompany me to the Marzocco."