poured out a cup of wine and offered it to his guest. "It is not drugged,"
he said with a laugh, "you need not fear. No? Ah, well, perhaps you are
right. I will drink it myself, though I should keep it for the night--the
nights are very long sometimes."

He set down the cup and leaned forward, peering intently into Giovanni's
face. "You gave me a start just now," he said. "I took you for a ghost--
the ghost of a man I once knew--Giovanni Bergamotto."

This was more than exciting; Giovanni's father had been one of the
murdered hostages of Crema, and if his name came to the ears of the
Emperor he would never leave the castle.

Searching his impassive face the jester nodded approvingly. "I knew it,"
he said. "No one else would have behaved as you did--and it is for Milan.
Milan!" He slipped from the table and stood up, the bells jangling a weird
undertone to his every movement. "It is better you should know--I am--I
was when I was alive--Stefano Baldi."

Giovanni's eyes blazed, "And you dare ask a Milanese to drink with you?"

"Hear me," begged the jester. "I sinned a great sin--yes; but I have lived
twelve years in torment of body and soul for that sin. I sinned for love
of a woman, and when I had betrayed my people she denied me, and her
brothers delivered me over to the executioners. They spared my life
because they thought it not worth the taking, and left me the wrecked and
crooked thing you see. Yet I have served Milan since her fall--I, the
traitor,--served her by a thousand petty treacheries and inventions. It
was I who sent Henry Plantagenet the news of Barbarossa's plans. I have
the favor of the Emperor, and hidden things are freely discussed before