uer it if I can make him prosperous." And he had been very
glad of an opportunity which had presented itself of providing the
notary with a temporary post as an extra _cancelliere_ or registering
secretary under the Ten, believing that with this sop and the
expectation of more, the waspish cur must be quite cured of the
disposition to bite him.

But perfect scheming demands omniscience, and the notary's envy had been
stimulated into hatred by causes of which Tito knew nothing. That
evening when Tito, returning from his critical audience with the Special
Council, had brushed by Ser Ceccone on the stairs, the notary, who had
only just returned from Pistoja, and learned the arrest of the
conspirators, was bound on an errand which bore a humble resemblance to
Tito's. He also, without giving up a show of popular zeal, had been
putting in the Medicean lottery. He also had been privy to the
unexecuted plot, and was willing to tell what he knew, but knew much
less to tell. He also would have been willing to go on treacherous
errands, but a more eligible agent had forestalled him. His
propositions were received coldly; the council, he was told, was already
in possession of the needed information, and since he had been thus busy
in sedition, it would be well for him to retire out of the way of
mischief, otherwise the government might be obliged to take note of him.
Ser Ceccone wanted no evidence to make him attribute his failure to
Tito, and his spite was the more bitter because the nature of the case
compelled him to hold his peace about it. Nor was this the whole of his
grudge against the flourishing Melema. On issuing from his
hiding-place, and attaching himself to the Arrabbiati, he had earned
some pay as one of the spies who reported information on Florentine
affairs to the Milanese court; but his pay had been small,
notwithstanding his pains to write full letters, and he had lately been
apprised that his news was seldom more than a late and imperfect edition
of what was known already. Now Ser Ceccone had no positive knowledge
that Tito had an underhand connection with the Arrabbiati and the Court
of Milan, but he had a suspicion of which he chewed the cud with as
strong a sense of flavour as if it had been a certainty.

This fine-grown vigorous hatred could swallow the feeble opiate of
Tito's favours, and be as lively as ever after it. Why should Ser
Ceccone like Melema any the better for doing him favours? Doub