It was an age and a country in which men dealt peculiarly in subtleties, so much so, indeed, that right and truth were often refined away to nothing, especially in the higher and better educated classes of society. The bravo, indeed, was often a more straightforward and truthful man than the nobleman who employed him. He would own frankly that he was committing a great sin; but then he had faith in the Virgin, and she would obtain remission for him. His employer would find a thousand reasons to justify the deed, and would so pile up motives and necessities in self-defence that it would seem almost doubtful which was most to be pitied, himself or his victim. Antonio was by no means without this spirit of casuistry; and though no man could cut through a long chain of pretences with more trenchant wit than he could, in the case of another, yet he might not unfrequently employ them in his own. He resolved, therefore, not to engage Mardocchi to betray his master's secrets, but only to reveal them when it was necessary that he, Antonio, should know them. The difference, indeed, was very slight, but it was sufficient to satisfy him. Antonio's mind then naturally reverted to Ramiro d'Orco, and he asked himself again and again what could be the motive which led a man so famous for stoical hardness to show such tenderness and consideration for Lorenzo Visconti. "It may be," he thought, "that this grim old tyrant thinks it a splendid match for his daughter. But then they say she has a magnificent fortune of her own--her dower that of a princess. There must be some other end in view. She is a glorious creature too, midway between Juno and Sappho. Well, we must wait and watch. Heaven knows how it will all turn out. Perhaps, after all, Ramiro has some scheme against one of the princes of Romagna, in which he hopes to engage the King of France through young Lorenzo's influence.--It is so, I think--it is so, surely. He wants serviceable men, too, and asked me if I knew of any. Well, I think I have fitted him with one at least, and he will owe me something for the good turn. But I must hie homeward, and keep these things to myself. No more interfering between Lorenzo and his young love. He bore my warnings badly this morning: I must let things take their course, and try to guide without opposing." CHAPTER XIII.