Fabri, the First Syndic, who sat two places from him, and had just taken a letter from the secretary, leaned forward so as to view him.

"Ay, Basterga," he said, "an Italian, I take it.

Do you know him, Messer Blondel ?" He was awake now, but, confused and startled, inclined to believe that he was on his trial; and that the faint parleyings with treason, small things hard to define, to which he had stooped, were known.
Mechanically, to gain time, he repeated the name: "Basterga ?" "Yes," Fabri repeated.

"Do you know him ?" "Caesar Basterga, is it ?" "That is his name." He was himself now, though his nerves still shook; himself so far as he could be, while ignorant of what had passed, and how he came to be challenged.

"Yes, I know him," he said slowly, "if you mean a Paduan, a scholar of some note, I believe.