sleeve two years ago, and spoiling the best plan that ever was laid. I was a fool for trusting myself with a rascal who had long-twisted contrivances that nobody could see to the end of but himself.”
“A Greek, too, who dropped into Florence with gems packed about him,” said Francesco Cei, who had a slight smile of amusement on his face at Spini’s fuming. “You did not choose your confidant very wisely, my Dolfo.”
“He’s a cursed deal cleverer than you, Francesco, and handsomer too,” said Spini, turning on his associate with a general desire to worry anything that presented itself.
“I humbly conceive,” said Ser Ceccone, “that Messer Francesco’s poetic genius will outweigh—”
“Yes, yes, rub your hands! I hate that notary’s trick of yours,” interrupted Spini, whose patronage consisted largely in this sort of frankness. “But there comes Taddeo, or somebody: now’s the time! What news, eh?” he went on, as two Compagnacci entered with heated looks.
“Bad!” said one. “The people have made up their minds they were going to have the sacking of Soderini’s house, and now they have been balked we shall have them turning on us, if we don’t take care. I suspect there are some Mediceans buzzing about among them, and we may see them attacking your palace over the bridge before long, unless we can find a bait for them another way.”
“I have it!” said Spini, and seizing Taddeo by the belt he drew him aside to give him directions, while the other went on telling Cei how the Signoria had interfered about Soderini’s house.
“ Ecco! ” exclaimed Spini, presently, giving Taddeo a slight push towards the door. “Go, and make quick work.”