But the Duke interrupted him.
"Incensed ?" he echoed, his eyes dilating in a sort of horror at the notion.

"Do you dare impute to me the mortal sin of choler?
I am not incensed; there is no anger in me." He crossed himself, as if to exorcise the evil mood if it indeed existed, and devotedly bowing his head and folding his hands--"Libera me a malo, Domine!" he murmured audibly.

Then, with a greater fierceness than before--"Now," he demanded, "will you tell me his name ?" "I would I could," the terrified hunchback began.

But at that the Duke turned from him with a shrug of angry impatience, and clapping his hands together: "Ola! Martino!" he called.

Instantly the door opened, and the Swiss appeared.