"Of a ravishment--of the strappado applied to a man bound hand and foot--"

He pretended to weep. "Cruel, cruel Francis!"

"Of detestable treachery in Florence when you set to work to entrap a
good girl who had done you no harm in the world--and, Fra Palamone, I
think I may remind you of the payment of those services of yours IN
KIND, in the Piazza of Santa Maria."

With clasped hands, streaming eyes, he beamed upon me. "Generous hand!
Oh, healing, life-giving blood!"

"I am glad," I said, "that you consider yourself healed by bleeding. But
now, it appears, you have appointed yourself messenger from my friends,
and have succeeded in benefiting me without extraordinary robbery. I
cannot suppose that you did this for love."

"Believe it," says he, "believe it, Francis."

"You must forgive me if I cannot," said I. "On the contrary, I believe
that you have acted for what profit you can make out of it. I never
asked you to interfere in my affairs, and owe you less than nothing, but
to make an end of you, since you do, perhaps, believe that you have
served me with this late news of what you, no doubt, would call my 'good
fortune,' I will give you more than you deserve." I counted out ten
guineas, or their equivalent, and held them out to him.

His eyes gleamed, as if a fire had suddenly been kindled in them by the
sight of money. He pounced at my hand and emptied it, as a dog scrapes
in the ground. Holding his coins close to his breast, he snarled at me