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'It is, as I may say, a false metaphor, which is an outrage upon elegant speech forgive me for borrowing your own expressions! And suddenly Trombin's eyes glared in such a way that the Senator was cowed. 'I assure you, I had no intention of giving you offence, Count, he said. 'If you will, choose the word you prefer; I will use it with pleasure.
All this might succeed easily enough by the liberal use of money, and under the protection of the pardons and passports the two cut-throats had in their possession; but it was clear that no time was to be lost, and while Trombin's gaze lingered on Ortensia's lovely face, he was anxiously listening for his friend's knock below, and he did not even attempt to answer her last speech with reassuring words.
Let me first know what Count Gambardella has promised in my name; for if, as I hope, it pledges me to nothing unworthy of the Lady Ortensia or of myself, I shall be doubly in your debt; but if not, which heaven avert, I shall be at your service for a quarrel, without further words. While he was speaking he met Trombin's ferocious stare steadily, and when he had finished he turned to Gambardella.
'Run, while we hold the street! he yelled to the musicians, who did not wait for a second invitation, but fled like sheep down the Via del Gesù. Trombin's blade was out almost as soon as his companion's, and the two Bravi faced the watch side by side.
Trombin's small pursed-up mouth also widened to a set smile, and he softly hummed snatches from the beautiful air Alessandro Stradella had sung during the Benediction service. It was a mere thread of a squeak of a falsetto voice, but it had at least the merit of being perfectly in tune, and his musical memory was faultless.
Though the two cut-throats behaved with the outward courtesy of gentlemen, there was something terrifying in their looks which it would have been hard to define, and the highly refined Venetian noble, who admired the elegant works of Politian and composed scores of polished inanities, shuddered from time to time as he glanced at Gambardella's sinewy brown hand or Trombin's strong pink fingers and thought of the stains that must often have been on both.
'You could not have done me a greater service! Stradella cried, surprised and delighted. 'I am sorry that I ever questioned your good judgment, sir! Trombin's fierce expression relaxed into one better suited to his round pink cheeks, and peace was immediately restored.
As soon as it was evident that he was going away, the lantern was shut and the street was dark again, Trombin's musicians tuned their instruments, and in two or three minutes the triumphal march rang out again, louder and higher than ever. In the dimness above Stradella and Ortensia looked at each other, though they could hardly see one another's faces.
When he was gone, Trombin and Gambardella looked at each other in silence; the dark man's thin lips, visible on each side of the point of his nose, but quite shaded by it in the middle, were smiling faintly, but Trombin's cherubic countenance expressed, or caricatured, the utter beatitude of one of those painted angels to which his friend always compared him.
As soon as they saw the face of the young man who rode the mule they recognised Trombin's adversary, who wore his broad-brimmed hat far down on the left to screen him from the sun, thus exposing the right side of his face to their view. They went on quietly, as if they had hardly noticed him, and he paid no attention to them.
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