the Fool
within that shell of steel. His honour would be vindicated, and he would
not lose the esteem of Madonna Paola. Indeed, if I returned covered with
glory, that glory would be his; and if he elected to fly thereafter,
he might do so without hurt to his fair name, for he would have amply
proved his mettle and his courage.

In some such fashion I doubt not that the High and Mighty Giovanni
Sforza reasoned during the seconds that we stood, face to face and
eye to eye, in that room, the cries of the impatient ones below almost
drowned in the roar of the multitude beyond.

At last he put out his hands to seize mine, and drawing me to the light
he scanned my face, Heaven alone knowing what it was he sought there.

"If you do this," said he, "Biancomonte shall be yours again, if it
remains in my power to bestow it upon you now or at any future time. I
swear it by my honour."

"Swear it by your fear of Hell or by your hope of Heaven and the compact
is made," I answered, and so palsied was he and so fallen in spirit that
he showed no resentment at the scorn of his honour my words implied, but
there and then took the oath I that demanded.

"And now," I urged, "help me to put on this armour of yours."

Hurriedly I cast off my jester's doublet and my head-dress with its
jangling bells, and with a wild exultation, a joy so fierce as almost
to bring tears to my eyes, I held my arms aloft whilst that poor craven
strapped about my body the back and breast plates of his corselet. I,
the Fool, stood there as arrogant as any knight, whilst with his noble
hands the Lord of Pesaro, kneeling, made secure the greaves upon
my legs, the sollerets with golden spurs, the cuissarts and the
genouilleres. Then he rose up, and with hands that trembled in his
eagerness, he put on my brassarts and shoulder-plates, whilst I, myself,
drew on my gauntlets. Next he adjusted the gorget, and handed me, last
of all, the helm, a splendid head-piece of black and gold, surmounted by
the Sforza lion.

I took it from him and passed it over my head. Then ere I snapped down
the visor and hid the face of Boccadoro, I bade him, unless he would
render futile all this masquerade, to lock the door of his closet, and
lie there concealed till my return. At that a sudden doubt assailed him.

"And what," quoth he, "if you do not return?"

In the fever that had possessed me this was a thing that had not entered
into my calculations, nor should it now. I laughe