"But this, signore. There is but one room in the house you could use, and that is occupied by two gentlemen of the army. Violent men, signore, who will not allow any one to share it. _Lasso me!_ But not a paul have they paid me as yet!" "Give them my compliments, and say that the Cavaliere Donati begs to be allowed a corner of their table for his dinner." "Alas, signore! It is useless. They have been here two days----" "Then it is time they made room for other travellers. Give my message, landlord, and say I am following." Mine host trotted off with considerable misgivings expressed in his face, and followed by my lackey, bearing my valise, I went after him at a slower pace. When I reached the room, which could hardly be missed, seeing it was the only one in the house that had any pretence of appearance, I found the door open, and heard a half-drunken voice shouting: "Begone, dog! Blood of a king! But are two gentlemen to be disturbed because a signore with a long name wants to dine? Skull of St. Jerome! Did you ever hear the like of this? _Cospetto!_ Tell him to go hang, or I'll spit him like a lark." I heard enough to recognise the voice, and turning to the lackey said: "Send Jacopo here at once with a stout cudgel--run." The man went off on the double, and I remained without the door listening with amusement to the ancient Brico's bluster, for it was he, and he was having all the talk, his companion, whoever he was, now and then giving a grunt of assent. "Mitre and cowl! Hell and sulphur! Will you begone, fool, or shall I slit your windpipe?" and I heard him beat the table with his fist. "Out, rascal," he roared, "and bring in another skin of chianti." Out came the wretched inn-keeper, and seeing me at the door began to urge me to go; but at this moment Jacopo came running up with a stout stick in his hand, and pushing the landlord on one side I stepped into the room, followed by Jacopo. Brico's friend, who was quite drunk as it seemed, had fallen asleep whilst he was talking, and lay with his head between his arms, half on the table, half on his chair. The ancient was seated with an empty skin before him, and rose in wrath as I entered. "What the----," he began in a wine-blown voice, and then his face paled a little as he saw me. I did not waste words. "Cudgel me this fellow out, Jacopo," I said, and Jacopo attended to the task as if he loved it. The ancient attempted to draw his sword, but it was useless, and a minute or two later he was flung out into the courtyard, beaten to a jelly and howling for mercy. He lay where he was flung, too bruised to move. His friend slept through it all; but as my lackey lifted up his head in an attempt to eject him, I recognised Piero Luigi, and felt that some more stringent action than I had taken with Brico should be adopted here. "This man is a thief," I said to the landlord, "and his friend little better."