"I know little of his liking," answered the other. "He is not like my good deceased lord, Buondoni, who would tell me this or that, or swear or stamp in my presence as if there were no one there but himself. This man keeps all, or thinks he keeps all, to himself; but one thing I have found out, and that I like him for, because in that he is like myself. If a man does him a good turn he never forgets it; and if a man does him an injury he does not forget that either." "I suppose not," replied Antonio, "he is a good lord in many things, and all the wiser for keeping his secrets to himself. In all the world he cannot find any one who can keep them as well. Then he did not show any anger when he found the Signora Leonora was not coming?" "Not a whit," answered Mardocchi; "he only said, 'it is well; it is very well.'" The conversation was then turned to other subjects by Antonio demanding if his companion did not think that the Signor Ramiro had laid his egg in a wrong nest when he attached himself to the Borgias. "Not at all," answered Mardocchi; "they are men who are not afraid of doing anything; if one way does not answer they take another; and such men are sure to succeed." He then went on to give his view of the situation of the Pope and the King of France, to which Antonio, who had come for the purpose of learning all he could, listened attentively. It was somewhat different from the view of Cæsar Borgia, and to say the truth, somewhat more extended; for he contemplated amongst the pope's resources both poison and the dagger. Indeed he had not studied under Buondoni without improvement; for he clearly showed Antonio that it would be perfectly possible to destroy almost all the king's army in Rome by poisoning the wells. "But, good Heaven! you would poison all the people likewise!" cried Antonio. "And no great harm either," said Mardocchi, gruffly: "did you not hear how the beasts last night were cheering and vivaing those French heretics? But if the Holy Father in his mercy chose to spare them, he could easily do it by sending the monks and priests amongst them to tell them which wells were poisoned and which not." "I forgot that," said Antonio, "and the scheme does seem a feasible one. But I hope, my dear friar, that if you have recourse to it, you will let me know where it is safe to drink. I, in return, will promise that when those who are left of the French army--for I must tell you that one half of them have had no knowledge of water since their baptism--when those that remain sack and fire the city, I will bring you out as my own particular friend, and save you from being impaled or burned. These French gentlemen who drink nothing but wine are not tender, I can tell you, and if they found their friends die poisoned, you would soon see a pope dancing in the middle of a bonfire, and the whole College of Cardinals writhing upon lance-heads."