Odo threw off his dusty coat and called the servant to remove his boots.

"Will you read the lady's letters, cavaliere?" Cantapresto asked,
obsequiously offering them on a lacquered tray.

"No--no: write first. Begin 'My angelic lady'--"

"You began the last letter in those terms, cavaliere," his scribe
reminded him with suspended pen.

"The devil! Well, then--wait. 'Throned goddess'--"

"You ended the last letter with 'throned goddess.'"

"Curse the last letter! Why did you send it?" Odo sprang up and slipped
his arms into the dress-tunic his servant had brought him. "Write
anything. Say that I am suddenly summoned by--"

"By the Count Alfieri?" Cantapresto suggested.

"Count Alfieri? Is he here? He has returned?"

"He arrived an hour ago, cavaliere. He sent you this Moorish scimitar
with his compliments. I understand he comes recently from Spain."

"Imbecile, not to have told me before! Quick, Antonio--my gloves, my
sword." Odo, flushed and animated, buckled his sword-belt with impatient
hands. "Write anything--anything to free my evening. Tomorrow
morning--tomorrow morning I shall wait on the lady. Let Antonio carry
her a nosegay with my compliments. Did you see him Cantapresto? Was he