His little twinkling eyes turned their attention full upon the face before him, and of a sudden a gleam of recognition entered them.

His countenance underwent a change, and from grotesque that it had been, it became more grotesque still in its hasty assumption of reverence.
"My Lord of Aquila!" he murmured, scrambling to his feet.
Scarcely had he got erect when a hand gripped him by the shoulder, and Fanfulla's dagger flashed before his startled eyes.
"Swear on the cross of this, never to divulge his Excellency's presence here, or take you the point of it in your foolish heart." "I swear, I swear!" he cried, in fearful haste, his hand upon the hilt, which Fanfulla now held towards him.
"Now fetch the priest, good fool," said the Count, with a smile at the hunchback's sudden terror.

"You have nothing to fear from us." When the jester had left them to go upon his errand, Francesco turned to his companion.
"Fanfulla, you are over-cautious," he said, with an easy smile.

"What shall it matter that I am recognised ?" "I would not have it happen for a kingdom while you are so near Sant' Angelo.

The six of us who met last night are doomed--those of us who are not dead already.