Now the tale of madam’s discomfiture at her amoroso’s hands the night before had not been long in reaching the boy’s ears. She had not deigned, equally in confessing her predilections as her shame, to utter them out of the common hearing. Modesty in intrigue was a paradox; and, in any case, one could undress without emotion in the presence of one’s dogs. So Cicada, putting two and two together, had gathered the whole story, and given this spiritual bantling of his a hint as to his wise policy thereon, scarce a sentence of which had he uttered before he was casting down his eyes and mumbling inarticulate under the piercing gaze of an honesty which would have been even less effective had it spoken. Then had he slunk away, blessing all beatitudes whose innocence entailed such responsibilities on their worshippers; and, as a result, here was Master Truth taking his own course with the problem. Messer Lanti’s eyes opened indeed to hear truth so fearless; but he made an acrid face. ’On my soul!’ he muttered, glistening, and stopped, and his brow was shadowed a moment under a devil’s wing. Then suddenly, with an oath, he clapped spurs to his horse, and galloped a furlong, and, circling, came back at a trot, and falling again alongside, put a quite gentle hand on the boy’s bridle arm. ’Dear, pretty Messer Truth,’ said he, ’I pray you, on my sincerity, turn your horse’s head. Whither, think you, are you making?’ ’Why, for heaven, I hope, Carlo,’ said the boy with a smile. ’Milan is not the gate to it,’ answered the rough voice, quite entreatingly. ’Go back, I advise you. You will break your heart on the stones. Why, look here: dost think I am so concerned to have this intrigue proved the common stuff of passion? I care not the feather in thy cap, Bernardino. Nay, I am the better for it, sith it opens the way to a change. And so with ten thousand others. There is the measure of your task. Now, will you go back?’ ’No, by my faith!’ Lanti growled, and grunted, and smacked his thigh. ’Then I cannot help thee: and yet I will help thee. Saint Ambrose! To remodel the world to goodwill, statecraft and all, on the lisp of a red mouth! Wilt be the fashion for just a year and a day, shouldering us, every one, poor gallants, to the wall? Why should I love thee for that? and I love thee nevertheless. There thou goest in a silken doublet, to whip all hell with a lute-string; and I—I had shown less temerity horsed and armoured, and with a whole roaring crusade at my back.’ Bembo smiled very kindly. ’Christ’s love was all _His_ sword and buckler,’ said he. ’And He was crucified,’ said Carlo grimly. ’And died a virgin,’ answered the boy, ’that He might make for ever chaste Love His heir.’ ’Well,’ grumbled Lanti, ’there reigns an impostor these fourteen hundred years or so in His place, that’s all. I hope the right heir may prove his title. ’Tis a long tenure to dispossess. Methinks men have forgotten.’