Fifanti rose and set a chair for him, smiling a crooked smile that held
more hostility than welcome. None the less did his excellency pay Madonna
Giuliana a thousand compliments as he took his seat, supremely calm and
easy in his manner. I watched him closely, and I watched Giuliana, a queer
fresh uneasiness pervading me.
The talk was trivial and chiefly concerned with the progress of the
barracks the legate was building and the fine new road from the middle of
the city to the Church of Santa Chiara, which he intended should be called
the Via Gambara, but which, despite his intentions, is known to-day as the
Stradone Farnese.
Presently my cousin arrived, full-armed and very martial by contrast with
the velvety Cardinal. He frowned to see Messer Gambara, then effaced the
frown and smiled as, one by one, he greeted us. Last of all he turned to
me.
"And how fares his saintliness?" quoth he.
"Indeed, none too saintly," said I, speaking my thoughts aloud.
He laughed. "Why, then, the sooner we are in orders, the sooner shall we
be on the road to mending that. Is it not so, Messer Fifanti?
"His ordination will profit you, I nothing doubt," said Fifanti, with his
habitual discourtesy and acidity. "So you do well to urge it."
The answer put my cousin entirely out of countenance a moment.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171