"How can I tell? was it Dame Ruperta's?"
"Oh no! Scozzone's, nothing less! Scozzone, Benvenuto's beloved model,—a lovely brunette, my word for it. Can you believe it of the rascal, viscount?"
"Indeed, it's most diverting," said Marmagne. "Is that all you saw?"
"Wait a bit, wait a bit, my dear fellow! I have kept the best till the last, the best morsel for the bonne bouche; wait a bit, we aren't there yet, but we soon shall be, never fear!"
"I am listening," said Marmagne. "On my honor, my dear fellow, it couldn't be more diverting."
"Wait a bit, I say, wait a bit. I was watching my Pagolo running from balcony to balcony at the risk of breaking his neck, when I heard another noise, which came almost from the foot of the tree in which I was sitting. I looked down and saw Ascanio creeping stealthily along from the foundry."
"Ascanio, Benvenuto's beloved pupil?"
"Himself, my friend, himself. A sort of choir-boy, to whom one would give absolution without confession. Oh yes! that comes of trusting to appearances."
"Why had Ascanio come out?"
"Ah, that's just it! Why had he? that's what I asked myself at first, but soon I had no occasion to ask it; for Ascanio, after having made sure, as Hermann and Pagolo had done, that nobody could see him, took from the foundry a long ladder, which he rested against the shoulders of Mars, and up he climbed. As the ladder was on the opposite side from myself, I lost sight of him as he went up, and was just wondering what had become of him when I saw a light in the eyes of the statue."