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lot.'
    Machiavelli had watched the incident with calm, even with amusement, which he took care not to show, for he was convinced that the whole affair was a piece of play acting. He knew very well that Il Valentino would never dare to hang two subjects of the King of France. In all probability they had already been released, with a gift of money for the trouble they had been put to, and on the following day would be found again in the ranks of the Gascon contingent. Machiavelli guessed that the scene had been arranged so that he could tell the Signory how efficiently the Duke was ruling his new conquests, but more particularly for his reference at the end to
Florence and Bologna. The suggestion that the troops might find themselves there was a threat too plain to be missed by anyone with so shrewd a brain as Machiavelli.
    Silence fell. The Duke, gently stroking his neat beard, stared at Machiavelli reflectively. Machiavelli had the feeling that he was making up his mind what sort of a man this was that the Signory had sent to negotiate with him, and not wishing to meet the searching eyes fixed on him he looked down at his hands, as though wondering if the nails wanted cutting. He was perplexed, and being perplexed was uneasy. For it was he that had conducted the business that led to the execution of Paolo Vitelli. Assured of his guilt, he had exercised all his powers of persuasion to convince his nervous and temporizing superiors that action must be taken without delay. It was he that had given the commissioners orders to proceed with energy. It was he that had urged the death sentence notwithstanding the fact that Vitellozzo had escaped. But his activities had been behind the scenes and he could not imagine how Il Valentino was aware of them. The thought crossed his mind that the Duke had dwelt upon the unsatisfactory outcome of the affair only to show that he knew what part Machiavelli had played in it and was maliciously pleased to be able to point out to him that he had handled it incompetently. But that man did nothing without a reason. It was unlikely that he wished to let the Florentine envoy know that he was well-informed of what happened in the Chancery of the Republic: it was more probable that his object was to shake Machia-velli's confidence in himself and so render him more amenable. The idea caused the suspicion of a smile to appear on his lips, and he glanced at the Duke. It looked as though the Duke had been waiting to meet his eyes before speaking.
    'Secretary, I desire to confide to you a secret I have told to no living man.'
    'Do you wish me to leave you, Cousin?' asked the Cardinal.
    'No, I trust in your discretion as much as I trust in the Secretary's.'
    Machiavelli, his jaw set, his gaze fixed on the handsome Duke, waited.
    'The Orsini have begged me almost on their bended knees to attack Florence. I bear your city no ill will and I have refused. But if the gentlemen of your government want to come to terms with me they must do it before I patch things up with the Orsini. We're both friends of the King of France; surely it's advisable that we should be friends of one another. With our territories adjoining each of us can make things easy for the other; each of us can make things difficult. You depend upon mercenary troops under unreliable captains; I have my own army, well-trained, well-armed, and my captains are the best in Europe.'
    'But no more reliable than ours, Your Excellency,' said Machiavelli dryly.
    'I have others who are reliable. Who are they, the fools who are conspiring against me? Pagolo Orsini, a fool, Bentivoglio who thinks I have designs on Bologna, the Baglioni who fears for Perugia, Oliverotto da Fermo, and Vitellozzo, who is laid aside by the French sickness.
    'They are powerful, and in revolt.'
    'All their movements are known to me and when things are ripe I shall act. Believe me, the ground is burning under their feet and it needs more water to put out the fire than such men as they