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.“See how he pines for you.Go give him a kiss.”The prince was in his teasing humor.Nicholas turned quickly to the gate.“Leave off,” Stefano muttered.“Give him a kiss!”The other men were laughing.Stefano’s horse jumped, its jaw pressed open by the rider’s hard hand on the reins.“By Cock, leave off!” Stefano cried.“Bah.” Valentino spurred his horse, which leapt sideways, and with a backward sweep of his arm knocked Stefano out of his saddle.The prince galloped away down the street, his followers streaming after him; with their dark cloaks spread on the wind of their passage they seemed like a flight of bats.Falling, Stefano had kept hold of his reins.His horse plunged, fighting to run with the others.Stefano struggled to make it stand and when it stood, bounded into the saddle.“Damn you!” he shouted at Nicholas.He raced his horse away down the street after Valentino.Nicholas drank the last of his wine and set the glass down.Juan, standing behind him, held out the linen napkin so that he could wipe his lips.“You must not be here tonight,” Nicholas said.He dropped the crumpled napkin on the table beside the remains of the bread.“Have you somewhere you might stay?”“When may I come back?” Juan asked.“Tomorrow morning.I will give you some money, if you need it.”“No—I can stay at the church,” Juan said.He began to gather the dishes and silver from the table.“Let me give you a purse.You could go to an inn.” He imagined Juan sleeping on the stone floor of a church, head to foot with a painted saint.The old man was shaking his head; his stoop curved his head and shoulders forward over the clutter of dishes.“I would rather stay in the church than in some filthy common bed.What will you do—are you staying here?”“Yes.” Nicholas hitched himself up on his left ham and pulled his purse from under his belt.He counted a hundred carlini onto the table.“Here—at least you can have some wine.”“This is business of those other people,” Juan said.Nicholas did not answer.Juan, superstitious as a child, would not bring Valentino’s name to his lips.“You should not be here then either,” Juan said.He started away with the dishes.Nicholas made a rude noise with his tongue against his teeth.“You sound like Bruni.Tell me the stars foretell disaster.” He pushed at the table, rattling the legs against the floor, to cover the old man’s answer.“Take this money and get out of here.I will expect you back tomorrow to serve me a cold breakfast.” Rising, he went across the room to his bedchamber.When he came out again a few moments later with his good coat in his hands, Juan and his money were gone.Nicholas put his coat on by himself.Now, alone in the house, he fell into a whirl of impatience.He went around the room twice, moving one chair an inch, and sliding his hand over the scarred front of the cabinet in an effort to hide its flaws.He went into the kitchen to put the wine into the jar and found that Juan had done that, and even set out half a dozen glasses on the sideboard.Nicholas grunted, displeased.Living in his imagination, the old man was taking of late to acting on what he imagined as if it were perfectly real, which set Nicholas’s teeth on edge.As he came out again from the kitchen into the main room, the gate bell sounded.He went out into the late twilight and opened the gate for two men wrapped in cloaks and hoods.They were on foot.Halfway down the path through the trees to the house, Valentino put back his hood and stopped.“He has not come?”Nicholas said, “Not yet, Magnificence.He sent to me that he would come by sundown.He wanted a guide through the city and I sent him des Troches.”Valentino hawked as if he were peeling off the sides of his mouth and spat white into the shadow under the trees.“Why des Troches?”“Of late he has pestered me often to do me small favors.”“You should have gone yourself.Des Troches will get him lost.” Valentino made an impatient face.“Still, it works out well, for me.When he comes, meet him, sit him down and give him drink, and draw him into talk.Is there somewhere in your house where I can listen secretly to him?”“The bedroom,” Nicholas said.“The kitchen would be better,” Miguelito said.They had been speaking in Italian but Miguelito used Spanish, and henceforth they spoke in that language.He went on, “There is a way out from the kitchen—when you wanted to join the captain-general, you would only have to go around the house and enter by the front door.”Valentino was already moving toward the house again.“Excellent,” he said.Nicholas followed him in through the front door, and when Valentino hesitated, directed him toward the kitchen.Dark as an imp in his black cloak, Miguelito followed his master.The gate bell rang again.On the stone threshold of the kitchen Valentino said, “Des Troches will be with him—you can trust des Troches to help you draw him out.”The door shut.Nicholas went out to the gate, his armpits wet.Again, two cloaked men waited for him; these men led horses by the reins.Nicholas stood aside to let them pass by him.He considered what his neighbors were thinking of this gathering.An orgy, perhaps.He circled after the newcomers, avoiding their horses, and spoke in Spanish.“Excellency, let me thank you for allowing me the honor of sheltering you once again.” He bowed to the burly man on the left [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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