Without taking her eyes from him, Madonna Gemma
crossed herself.
Baldo came to the gate. The ghostly Arabian uttered:
"Peace be with you. I have here, under my robe, a packet for your
master."
"Good! Pass it over to me, unless it will turn my nose into a carrot,
or add a tail to my spine."
The foreigner, shaking his skull-like head, responded:
"I must give this packet into no hands but his."
So Baldo led the sorcerer to Cercamorte, and for a long while those
two talked together in private.
* * * * *
Next day Madonna Gemma noted that Lapo had on a new, short,
sleeveless surcoat, or vest, of whitish leather, trimmed on its
edges with vair, and laced down the sides with tinsel. In this
festive garment, so different from his usual attire, the grim tyrant
was ill at ease, secretly anxious, almost timid. Avoiding her eye,
he assumed an elaborate carelessness, like that of a boy who had
been up to some deviltry. Madonna Gemma soon found herself
connecting this change in him with the fancy white-leather vest.
In the hall, while passing a platter of figs, Foresto praised the
new garment obsequiously. He murmured:
"And what a fine skin it is made of! So soft, so delicate, so
lustrous in its finish! Is it pigskin, master? Ah, no; it is finer
than that.
Pages:
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525