He had failed in everything up to now, although he had had his chances. His long sword had helped to stir the times when the Duke of Bari upset all Italy, and the people used to sing: Cristo in cielo é il Moro in terra, Solo sa il fine di questa guerra. He had fought at Fornovo and at Mertara; and in the breach at Santa Croce had even crossed swords with the Count di Savelli, the most redoubted knight, with the exception of Bayard, of the age. He had been run through the ribs for his temerity; but it was an honour he never forgot. Then other things had happened, and he had sunk, sunk to be what he was, as many a better man had done before him. A knock at the door disturbed his meditations. He set down his empty glass and called out, "Enter!" The door opened, and the Cavaliere Michele di Lippo entered the room. Moratti showed no surprise, although the visit was a little unexpected; but beyond pointing to a chair, gave di Lippo no other greeting, saying simply: "Take a seat, signore--and shut the door behind you. I did not expect you until to-morrow." "True, captain; But you see I was impatient. I got your letter yesterday, and, the matter being pressing, came here at once." "Well--what is the business?" The cavaliere's steel-grey eyes contracted like those of a cat when a sudden light is cast upon them, and he glanced cautiously around him. "This place is safe--no eavesdroppers?" he asked. "None," answered Moratti; and slowly putting his feet down from the table, pushed the wine towards di Lippo. "Help yourself, signore--No! Well, as you wish. And now, your business?" There was a silence in the room, and each man watched the other narrowly. Moratti looked at the cavaliere's long hatchet face, at the cruel close-set eyes, at the thin red hair showing under his velvet cap, and at the straight line of the mouth, partly hidden by a moustache, and short peaked beard of a slightly darker red than the hair on di Lippo's head. Michele di Lippo, in his turn, keenly scanned the seamed and haughty features of the bravo, and each man recognised in the other the qualities he respected, if such a word may be used. At last the cavaliere spoke: "As I mentioned, captain, my business is one of the highest importance, and----" "You are prepared to pay in proportion--eh?" and Moratti twirled his moustache between his fingers. "Exactly. I have made you my offer." "But have not told me what you want done." "I am coming to that. Permit me; I think I will change my mind;" and as Moratti nodded assent, di Lippo poured himself out a glass of wine and drained it slowly. When he had done this, he set the glass down with extreme care, and continued: "I am, as you see, captain, no longer a young man, and it is inconvenient to have to wait for an inheritance"--and he grinned horribly. "I see, cavalierei--you want me to anticipate matters a little--Well, I am willing to help you if I can."