"Books," he said, "are the delight of my life, without them all would be stale. Here," and he held up a volume, "is a priceless treasure. It is a manuscript copy of Cicero's De Gloria. I obtained it from my friend, poor Angelo Poliziano." "I am afraid," I said, "I could only look at it, for I have not studied the ancients." He laid down the book: "Of a truth, men were giants in those days--but hark! That is too loud for a rat." At this moment we heard a distinct rustling behind the tapestry, which hung on one side of the wall. My host sprang up, and with his drawn rapier in his hand, lifted the arras. I followed him; but we observed nothing but a door, which was concealed behind the curtain. "This is a private door leading to the corridor, and confound it--it is open. How the devil did this happen? However, this will make things sure." He turned the key which was in the lock, and removing it, placed it carefully aside in a drawer, and his face was shaded a little with anxiety. This however he brushed off like a fly, and resuming our seats, he poured out some more wine for both of us, and said: "Signore, now that I observe you closely, it appears to me that your sword, good as it is, has not helped you to fill your purse." "It was able to save your life, Messer--I know not your name," I answered with a little heat, and rose as if to take my leave. He laughed cheerfully, and putting his hand on my shoulder, pressed me back into my chair. "Sit down, signore, I meant no offence, and my name is Niccolo Machiavelli. Will you give me yours in return?" I was then before the Secretary of the Council of Ten, the crafty politician who at that time held Florence in his hand, and with whose name all Italy was full. I now understood Ceci's plot at once, but the question was, should I give my right name? Sooner or later the Secretary would find out, and I accordingly answered him as honestly as possible. "I pass under the name of Donati, your excellency, will that do?" He leaned back reflectively. "I like confidence when I give it," he said, "and yet perhaps it does not matter. You had no idea who I was when you helped me?" he added with a quick look. "Not in the slightest." I did not feel justified in adding more. "Well, Signore Donati, I have work for which I want a brave man, and if you care to accept it, I offer it to you." "Your excellency, I will plainly say that I hardly know where to turn for employment, in fact, I am in such straits that I cannot afford to look for a hair in any egg that may fall my way; at the same time your business must be such as I can take with honour." "With honour of course," he smiled sarcastically, and then added, "I suppose I can trust you?" "You need not give me the employment, signore, if you do not think you can trust me--and pardon me--it is getting late." "Sit down, man, I did but try you, and you are the man I want. Where do you lodge?" "In the Albizzi Palace, in the street di Pucci."