He was conscious of a hearty voice which spoke in Italian. It changed to French, and he became aware of a very fat man, dressed in gorgeous velvet, with a heavy gold chain, set with brilliants, around his neck, bowing courteously in the shadows by the door. "A friend of Messer Matteo," the fat man was saying, "not to speak of a son of the great Sir James de Chesby, is doubly welcome to my poor home. Pray make use of it as you choose whilst you stay in Venice, and you condescend to recognise me, fair sir. All that I have is at your disposal." "Certes, you are more than kind, Messer Ziniani," answered Hugh. They had some more conversation, couched in terms of flattering amiability, and then the merchant ushered them to an upper story. Past room after room heaped with Eastern clothes, rugs, spices, incenses, gold, silver- and steel-ware they strode through endless corridors, until at last they reached a suite of apartments opening upon a courtyard. Below in the growing moonlight, Hugh saw a fountain playing silvery-bright against a fretted stone portico. "Food shall be served to you at once," Messer Ziniani informed them. "Now, I go to see that your horses are well cared for. Have you any further wishes?" "Only to ask, an you will favour me so greatly, that you send my servant hither," replied Hugh. Messer Ziniani bowed to the floor and left them. "Why, this man waits upon us like an inn-keeper," cried Hugh, as soon as the door had closed upon his back. "And he is noble, you say, and by Our Lady, he lives in a castle built like a palace and crammed with riches!" "So the Venetians do," assented Matteo. "They are proud of their merchantry, and 'tis likewise their pride to put themselves to every trouble for their guests. Doubt not, he will spare no effort of his own hands to make you comfortable." "A very gentle person," quoth Hugh. "And a most gentle habitation. I would I might dwell here always." That night they slept upon silken couches, lulled by the lapping waters against the foundations of the fondaco and the faint clanging of church-bells. It was difficult to realise that they were in the midst of a populous city, so silent was all about them. In the morning Messer Ziniani appeared again, bearing handsome suits of velvet slashed with cendal. Everything was complete, even to soft leather shoes and taffeta caps after the Italian fashion. "With your favour, fair sirs," he explained, bowing before them, "'tis not the custom to wear mail in Venice. Moreover, there is danger that so heavily weighted you might fall into the water, in which case 'twould be next to impossible for you to be saved. I have brought these garments for your approval." The comrades were not sorry to be rid of their cumbersome armour, and whilst they attired themselves in the clothes their host's forethought had made available they plied him with questions.