rhythm--remotely
resembling that of Petrarca, yet very different. Conceits similar to
those that were the beauty spots of the Lord Giovanni's verses
are ubiquitous in yours, and above all there is the same fervent
earnestness, the same burning tone of sincerity that rendered his
strambotti so worthy of admiration."

"It may be," I answered him, my confusion growing under the steady gaze
of Madonna Paola, "it may be that having heard the verses of the Lord
Giovanni, I may, unconsciously, have modelled my own lines upon those
that made so deep an impression on me."

He looked at me gravely for a moment.

"That might be an explanation," he answered deliberately, "but frankly,
if I were asked, I should give a very different one."

"And that would be?" came, sharp and compelling, the voice of Madonna.

He turned to her, shrugged his shoulders and laughed. "Why, since you
ask me," he said, "I should hazard the opinion that Lazzaro, here, was
of considerable assistance to the Lord Giovanni in the penning of those
verses with which he delighted us all--and you, Madonna, I believe,
particularly."

Madonna Paola crimsoned, and her eyes fell. The others looked at us
with inquiring glances--at her, at Filippo and at me. With a fresh laugh
Filippo turned to me.

"Confess now, am I not right?" he asked good-humouredly.

"Magnificent," I murmured in tones of protest, "ask yourself the
question. Was it a likely thing that the Lord Giovanni would enlist the
services of his jester in such a task?"

"Give me a straightforward answer," he insisted. "Am I right or wrong?"

"I am giving you more than a straightforward answer, my lord," I still
evaded him, and more boldly now. "I am setting you on the high-road to
solve the matter for yourself by an appeal to your own good sense and
reason. Was it in the least likely, I repeat, that the Lord Giovanni
would seek the services of his Fool to aid him write the verses in
honour of the lady of his heart?"

With a burst of mocking laughter, Filippo smote the table a blow of his
clenched hand.

"Your prevarications answer me," he cried. "You will not say that I am
wrong."

"But I do say that you are wrong!" I exclaimed, suddenly inspired. "I
did not assist the Lord Giovanni with his verses. I swear it."

His laughter faded; and his eyes surveyed me with a sudden solemnity.

"Then why did you evade my question?" he demanded shrewdly. And then his
countenance changed as swiftly agai