will be stronger and your cut more shrewd.
there will be some of us at the 'rose de guienne' to-night, which
is two doors from the hotel of the 'half moon,' so if you would
drain a cup with a few simple archers you will be right welcome."
alleyne promised to be there if his duties would allow, and then,
slipping through the crowd, he rejoined ford, who was standing in
talk with the two strangers, who had now reached their own
doorstep.
"brave young signor," cried the tall man, throwing his arms round
alleyne, "how can we thank you enough for taking our parts
against those horrible drunken barbarians. what should we have
done without you? my tita would have been dragged away, and my
head would have been shivered into a thousand fragments."
"nay, i scarce think that they would have mishandled you so,"
said alleyne in surprise.
"ho, ho!" cried he with a high crowing laugh, "it is not the head
upon my shoulders that i think of. cospetto! no. it is the head
under my arm which you have preserved."
"perhaps the signori would deign to come under our roof, father,"
said the maiden. "if we bide here, who knows that some fresh
tumult may not break out."
"well said, tita! well said, my girl! i pray you, sirs, to
honor my unworthy roof so far. a light, giacomo! there are five
steps up. now two more. so! here we are at last in safety.
corpo di baccho! i would not have given ten maravedi for my head
when those children of the devil were pushing us against the
wall. tita mia, you have been a brave girl, and it was better
that you should be pulled and pushed than that my head should be
broken."
"yes indeed, father," said she earnestly.
"but those english! ach! take a goth, a hun, and a vandal, mix
them together and add a barbary rover; then take this creature
and make him drunk--and you have an englishman. my god i were
ever such people upon earth! what place is free from them? i
hear that they swarm in italy even as they swarm here.
everywhere you will find them, except in heaven."
"dear father," cried tita, still supporting the angry old man, as
he limped up the curved oaken stair. "you must not forget that
these good signori who have preserved us are also english."
"ah, yes. my pardon, sirs! come into my rooms here. there are
some who might find some pleasure in these paintings, but i learn
the art of war is the only art which is held in honor in your
island."
the low-roofed, oak-panelled room into which he conducted them
was brilliantly lit by four scented oil lamps. against the
walls, upon the table, on the floor, and in every part of the
chamber were great sheets of glass painted in the most brilliant
colors. ford and edricson gazed around them in amazement, for
never had they seen such magnificent works of art.
"you like them then," the lame artist cried, in answer to the
look of pleasure and of surprise in their faces. "there are then
some of you who have a taste for such trifling."
"i could not have believed it," exclaimed alleyne. "what color!
what outlines! see to this martyrdom of the holy stephen, ford.
could you not yourself pick up one of these stones which lie to
the hand of the wicked murtherers?"
"and see this stag, alleyne, with the cross betwixt its horns.
by my faith! i have never seen a better one at the forest of
bere."
"and the green of this grass--how bright and clear! why all the
painting that i have seen is but child's play beside this. this
worthy gentleman must be one of those great painters of whom i
have oft heard brother bartholomew speak in the old days at
beaulieu."
the dark mobile face of the artist shone with pleasure at the
unaffected delight of the two young englishmen. his daughter had
thrown off her mantle and disclosed a face of the finest and most
delicate italian beauty, which soon drew ford's eyes from the
pictures in front of him. alleyne, however, continued with
little cries of admiration and of wonderment to turn from the
walls to the table and yet again to the walls.
"what think you of this, young sir?" asked the painter, tearing
off the cloth which concealed the flat object which he had borne
beneath his arm. it was a leaf-shaped sheet of glass bearing
upon it a face with a halo round it, so delicately outlined, and
of so perfect a tint, that it might have been indeed a human face
which gazed with sad and thoughtful eyes upon the young squire.
he clapped his hands, with that thrill of joy which true art will
ever give to a true artist.
"it is great!" he cried. "it is wonderful! but i marvel, sir,
that you should have risked a work of such beauty and value by
bearing it at night through so unruly a crowd."
"i have indeed been rash," said the artist. "some wine, tita,
from the florence flask! had it not been for you, i
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