Mardocchi took the ring and held it in his hand, apparently hesitating. "I beg your Eminence to pardon me," he said, at length, "but I cannot quit the Lord Ramiro." "Ha! do you love the good lord so much?" asked Borgia. "No, your Eminence, I do not love him at all," replied the friar; "but--but--I have an object in staying with him." "Speak out--speak out, Mardocchi," said Cæsar Borgia; "you have nothing to fear from me, and if I can help you, I will." "It is a long story, my lord," replied the friar; "but to tell you as shortly as may be. The signor's daughter, it seems, is to be married shortly to young Lorenzo Visconti. Now I have an old grudge against that young man. I have promised not to practise against his life, and I will keep my promise, for I always do; but I have not promised not to do him all the harm I can, for revenge I will have, and I can only have it by staying with Ramiro d'Orco." "That suits me well," replied Cæsar Borgia. "You shall be my servant, Mardocchi, but not quit the good lord. You may remain with him, go with him where he goes, serve him against all men except me; but you will remember you are mine, and be ready to serve me at a moment's notice. I need such men as you. You will receive a hundred ducats in the year from my treasurer, and I count upon you for any service, even should it be against Ramiro himself." "I trust I may count upon your Eminence's countenance too," said Mardocchi, "in case I should get into any trouble on this Signor Visconti's matters, for my revenge upon him I will have." "You shall have my protection, and those whom I protect are tolerably safe," said Borgia, rising and going to a small beautiful cabinet that stood in the room. "Here, take this bag of ducats; it is what I promised. Divide them equally with your companions, and say nothing about the ring I have given you. Come to me to-morrow, and we will speak further. I will now retire, and shall sleep better than I have done for weeks." Mardocchi took the heavy bag, and as he did so, Cæsar Borgia saw that there was blood on the man's hand. It was his brother's blood; and the sight did for an instant touch his obdurate heart, which nothing else had reached. He did not sleep so well that night as he expected. CHAPTER XXXVI.