Over by a window sat four of the Swiss--the entire guard--about a table
playing at dice, their lances deposited in an angle of the wall.
Watching their game--for which he had lingered after accompanying the Duke
thus far--stood the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Galeotto. He turned
as we entered, and gave us an indifferent glance as if we were of no
interest to him, then returned his attention to the dicers.
One or two of the Swiss looked up at us casually. The dice rattled
merrily, and there came from the players little splutters of laughter and
deep guttural, German oaths.
At the room's far end, by the curtains that masked the door of the chamber
where Farnese sat at dinner, stood an usher in black velvet, staff in hand,
who took no more interest in us than did the Swiss.
We sauntered over to the dicers' table, and in placing ourselves the better
to watch their game, we so contrived that we entirely hemmed them into the
embrasure, whilst Confalonieri himself stood with his back to the pikes, an
effective barrier between the men and their weapons.
We remained thus for some moments whilst the game went on, and we laughed
with the winners and swore with the losers, as if our hearts were entirely
in the dicing and we had not another thought in the world.
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