a bath-robe, before a table spread sumptuously with viands: cold pigeon pie, cold roast wild-fowl, cold ham, bread and olives, a variety of sweetmeats, and two great flagons of wine, one white, one red. There by the light of six lamps he ate his fill. Then in the third room his attendants composed him in a big, soft bed.
He slept soundly.
When he woke it was broad day and the two servitors were watching him. Obsequiously they inquired whether it would please Messer Melozzo to rise. Deftly they habited him in luxurious garments, fit for a great lord, but without belt, dagger or sword. Respectfully they led him in the large room where he had supped the night before. There was no crumb of food there, this time. There they left him, closing the door behind them.
A moment later the door opened again. Melozzo looked up. In the doorway stood Bauro Disvola, swart, vast and truculent, hand on hilt.
Melozzo stood up.
They eyed each other.
Bauro spoke, suave as a troubadour.
"Greeting, Messer Melozzo."
"Greeting, Messer Bauro," Melozzo replied.
"May I come in?" Bauro asked, urbanely.
"Enter, Messer Bauro," said Melozzo.
