"I am very happy, madame, that I arrived too early, as my impatience procures me the honor of a _tête-à-tête_ with you,--an honor I should have requested most urgently, had not chance, to which I return my thanks, anticipated my wishes." "Good lack, Benvenuto!" said the duchess; "does defeat incline you to flattery?" "Not my own defeat, madame, but that of other persons. I have always considered it peculiarly meritorious to pay my court to one in disgrace; and here is the proof of it, madame." As he spoke, Benvenuto drew from beneath his cloak Ascanio's golden lily, which he had completed that morning. The duchess exclaimed with wonder and delight. Never had her eyes beheld such a marvellous jewel, never did one of the flowers found in the enchanted gardens of the "Thousand and One Nights" so dazzle the eyes of peri or fairy. "Ah!" cried the duchess, putting forth her hand to take the flower, "you promised me, Benvenuto, but I confess that I did not rely upon your promise." "Why should you not rely upon it, madame?" laughed Benvenuto. "You insult me." "Oh! if you had promised to perform a revengeful, instead of a gallant act, I should have been much more certain that you would redeem your promise punctually." "Who told you that I did not promise both?" retorted Benvenuto, drawing back his hand, so that the lily was still in his control. "I do not understand you," said the duchess. "Do you not think," said Benvenuto, pointing to the diamond shimmering in the heart of the flower--the diamond which she owed to the corrupting munificence of Charles V.--"that when mounted in the guise of a dewdrop, the earnest given to bind a certain bargain which is to set off the Duchy of Milan from France has a fine effect?" "You speak in enigmas, my dear goldsmith; unfortunately the king will soon be here, and I haven't time to guess them." "I will tell you the answer, then. It is an old proverb, _Verba, volant, scripta manent_, which, being interpreted, means, 'What is written is written.'" "Ah! that's where you are in error, my dear goldsmith; what is written is burned: so do not think to frighten me as you would a child, and give me the lily which belongs to me." "One instant, madame; I ought to warn you that while it is a magic talisman in my hands, it will lose all its virtue in yours. My work is even more valuable than you think. Where the multitude sees only a jewel, we artists sometimes conceal an idea. Do you wish me to show you this idea, madame? Nothing is easier: look, all that is necessary is to press this invisible spring. The stalk opens, as you see, and in the heart of the flower we find, not a gnawing worm, as in some natural flowers and some false hearts, but something similar, worse it may be,--the dishonor of the Duchesse d'Etampes, written with her own hand and signed by her."