ent, no doubt, in some gloomy old house full of yellow-faced
Carmelite or Franciscan nuns, with her glorious hair and her matchless
complexion! I can see her in my imagination, a gilded rose amongst
cabbages, a luscious peach in a heap of turnips.'

'For goodness' sake stop raving!' interrupted Gambardella. 'Why should
she be in a convent, I should like to know?'

'Where else could two respectable women without money go? They could not
possibly travel, and no one in the town would take them in without
baggage or cash. I tell you they went from here to a convent and asked
for shelter and protection. It is the most natural thing in the world.
It is what the girl's middle-aged serving-woman would certainly think of
first.'

'You may be right,' answered the other, his tone changing. 'Drink more
wine, for it always stimulates your imagination, and you may imagine a
way of getting Stradella out of the Lion Tower. I think you are right
about the girl. We will make inquiries at the convents after dinner.'

Trombin filled his glass, which was quite empty, drank half the contents
and set it down.

'In the first place,' he said, 'we had better try simple persuasion with
the Legate. If you agree, I will go and see him late in the afternoon.
He may make some little difficulty about receiving me, but that will
only be in order to impress me with his greatness. Besides, you will
give me a letter of introduction which I shall ask to present in
person.'

'I?' Gambardella looked at his friend across his glass with an
expression of inquiry.

'Certainly,' answered Trombin. 'I could not ask such a favour of any one
who knows me better, could I? If any one can vouch for me, you can.'

Gambardella condescended to smile faintly, and suggested an outline of
the letter.

'"I have the honour to introduce to your lordship's good graces the very
noble Count Tromblon de la Trombine, who is here at great personal
inconvenience for the express purpose of cutting Alessandro Stradella's
throat, and will be much obliged if your worship will at once order the
Maestro to be let out for that purpose." Would that do? I could sign
Pignaver's name to it!'

'You have no imagination. I will make a rough draft, which you will then
write out much better than I could. You shall see. While I am at the
castle, you may make inquiries at the different convents.'

As their servant Tommaso had foreseen, they sat at table two hours, and
on the whole, though