Messer Greco; but, I said, he is mounted up among the signori now—and I’m glad of it, for I was at the bottom of his fortune—but I can rarely get speech of him, for he’s not to be caught lying on the stones now—not he! But it’s your luck, not mine, Messer Greco, save and except some small trifle to satisfy me for my trouble in the transaction.”
“You speak in riddles, Bratti,” said Tito. “Remember, I don’t sharpen my wits, as you do, by driving hard bargains for iron rings: you must be plain.”
“By the Holy ’Vangels! it was an easy bargain I gave them. If a Hebrew gets thirty-two percent, I hope a Christian may get a little more. If I had not borne a conscience, I should have got twice the money and twice the yarn. But, talking of rings, it is your ring—that very ring you’ve got on your finger—that I could get you a purchaser for; ay, and a purchaser with a deep moneybag.”
“Truly?” said Tito, looking at his ring and listening.
“A Genoese who is going straight away into Hungary, as I understand. He came and looked all over my shop to see if I had any old things I didn’t know the price of; I warrant you, he thought I had a pumpkin on my shoulders. He had been rummaging all the shops in Florence.
And he had a ring on—not like yours, but something of the same fashion; and as he was talking of rings, I said I knew a fine young man, a particular acquaintance of mine, who had a ring of that sort. And he said, ‘Who is he, pray? Tell him I’ll give him his price for it.’
And I thought of going after you to Nello’s tomorrow; for it’s my opinion of you, Messer Greco, that you’re not one who’d see the Arno run broth, and stand by without dipping your finger.”
Tito had lost no word of what Bratti had said, yet his mind had been very busy all the while.