I knelt to kiss it, overawed by his ecclesiastical rank, however little awed by the man within it.
As I rose again he looked up at me considering my inches.
"Why," said he, "here is a fine soldier lost to glory." And as he spoke, he half turned to a young man who sat beside him, a man at whom I was eager to take a fuller look, for his face was most strangely familiar to me.
He was tall and graceful, very beautifully dressed in purple and gold, and his blue-black hair was held in a net or coif of finest gold thread.
His garments clung as tightly and smoothly as if he had been kneaded into them--as, indeed, he had.

But it was his face that held my eyes.

It was a sun-tanned, shaven hawk-face with black level brows, black eyes, and a strong jaw, handsome save for something displeasing in the lines of the mouth, something sardonic, proud, and contemptuous.
The Cardinal addressed him.

"You breed fine fellows in your family, Cosimo," were the words with which he startled me, and then I knew where I had seen that face before.

In my mirror.
He was as like me--save that he was blacker and not so tall--as if he had been own brother to me instead of merely cousin as I knew at once he was.