And when Lapo found no reply in his head, Ercole Azzanera, with a humble bow, descended from the high tower and followed the others away.

Lapo Cercamorte sat down on a stool.  “All my good men,” he murmured, “and my dear gossip, Baldo!  My castle rushed by so shabby a ruse; my name a laughing-stock!  And the Marquis Azzo gave them my house as one gives a child a leaden gimcrack to stamp on.  All because of this damned vest, this silly talisman which was to gain me her love.  ’In the name of Christ,’ says my friend, Ercole Azzanera.  By the Same!  If I live I will go away to the heathen, for there is no more pleasure in Christendom.”

So he sat for a while, maundering dismally, then stood up and made for the door.  He reeled.  He sank down with a clash.  Madonna Gemma, stealing out from the casement niche, knelt beside him, peered into his face, and ran like the wind down the staircase.  In the hall, with lifted robe she sped over the corpses of Cercamorte’s soldiers, seeking wine and water.  These obtained, she flew back to Lapo.  There the crone found her.  Between them those two dragged him down to Madonna Gemma’s chamber, stripped him, tended his wounds, and hoisted him into the bed.

Flat on his back, Cercamorte fought over all his battles.  He quarrelled with Baldo.  Again he pondered anxiously outside of Madonna Gemma’s door.  He instructed the Arabian to fashion him a charm that would overspread his ugly face with comeliness, change his uncouthness into geniality.  He insisted on wearing the vest, the under side of which was scribbled with magical signs.

Madonna Gemma sat by the bed all day, and lay beside him at night.  On rising, she attired herself in a vermilion gown over which she drew a white jacket of Eastern silk embroidered with nightingales.  Into her golden tresses she braided the necklaces that he had offered her.  Her tapering milky fingers sparkled with rings.  Her former beauty had not returned—­another, greater beauty had taken its place.

A day came when he recognized her face.  Leaning down like a flower of paradise, she kissed his lips.