" And upon that he got up and flung out of the room in a pet
before I could think of an answer.
Left alone, I began an ode which should prove to him his lack of justice.
But I got no further than two lines of it. Then for a spell I sat biting
my quill, my mind and the eyes of my soul full of Giuliana.
Presently I began to write again. It was not an ode, but a prayer, oddly
profane--and it was in Italian, in the "dialettale" that provoked Fifanti's
sneers. How it ran I have forgotten these many years. But I recall that
in it I likened myself to a sailor navigating shoals and besought the
pharos of Giuliana's eyes to bring me safely through, besought her to
anoint me with her glance and so hearten me to brave the dangers of that
procellous sea.
I read it first with satisfaction, then with dismay as I realized to the
full its amorous meaning. Lastly I tore it up and went below to dine.
We were still at table when my Lord Gambara arrived. He came on horseback
attended by two grooms whom he left to await him. He was all in black
velvet, I remember, even to his thigh-boots which were laced up the sides
with gold, and on his breast gleamed a fine medallion of diamonds. Of the
prelate there was about him, as usual, nothing but the scarlet cloak and
the sapphire ring.
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