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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"The Strolling Saint; being the confessions of the high and mighty Agostino D'Anguissola, tyrant of Mondolfo and Lord of Carmina in the state of Piacenza"

"
I laughed, looking into his blotched face, considering his lame leg and all
the evil humours in him.
"By my faith, I think it is your excellency needs the attentions of a
leech," said I, and flung all present into consternation by that answer.
I saw his face turn livid, and I saw the hand shake upon the golden head of
his cane. He was very sensitive upon the score of his foul infirmities.
His eyes grew baleful as he controlled himself. Then he smiled, displaying
a ruin of blackened teeth.
"You had best take care," he said. "It were a pity to cripple such fine
limbs as yours. But there is a certain matter upon which the Holy Office
might desire to set you some questions. Best be careful, sir, and avoid
disagreements with my captains."
He turned away. He had had the last word, and had left me cold with
apprehension, yet warmed by the consciousness that in the brief encounter
it was he who had taken the deeper wound.
He bowed before Bianca. "Oh, pardon me," he said. "I did not dream you
stood so near. Else no such harsh sounds should have offended your fair
ears. As for Messer d'Anguissola..." He shrugged as who would say, "Have
pity on such a boor!"
But her answer, crisp and sudden as come words that are spoken on impulse
or inspiration, dashed his confidence.


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