The young man sprang up laughing.  It was the fashion to applaud Parini’s verse in the circles at which his satire was aimed, and none recited his mock heroics with greater zest than the young gentlemen whose fopperies he ridiculed.  Odo’s toilet was indeed a rite almost as elaborate as that of Parini’s hero; and this accomplished, he was on his way to fulfil the very duty the poet most unsparingly derides:  the morning visit of the cicisbeo to his lady; but meanwhile he liked to show himself above the follies of his class by joining in the laugh against them.  When he issued from the powder-room in his gold-laced uniform, with scented gloves and carefully-adjusted queue, he presented the image of a young gentleman so clearly equal to the most flattering emergencies that Alfieri broke into a smile of half-ironical approval.  “I see, my dear cavaliere, that it were idle to invite you to try one of the new Arabs I have brought with me from Spain, since it is plain other duties engage you; but I come to lay claim to your evening.”

Odo hesitated.  “The Queen holds a circle this evening,” he said.

“And her lady-in-waiting is in attendance?” returned Alfieri.  “And the lady-in-waiting’s gentleman-in-waiting also?”

Odo made an impatient movement.  “What inducements do you offer?” said he carelessly.

Alfieri stepped close and tapped him on the sleeve.  “Meet me at ten o’clock at the turn of the lane behind the Corpus Domini.  Wear a cloak and a mask, and leave this gentleman at home with a flask of Asti.”  He glanced at Cantapresto.

Odo hesitated a moment.  He knew well enough where such midnight turnings led, and across the vision evoked by his friend’s words a girl’s face flitted suddenly.

“Is that all?” he said with a shrug.  “You find me, I fear, in no humour for such exploits.”

Alfieri smiled.  “And if I say that I have promised to bring you?”

“Promised—?”

“To one as chary of exacting such pledges as I of giving them.  If I say that you stake your life on the adventure, and that the stake is not too great for the reward—?”

His sallow face had reddened with excitement, and Odo’s forehead reflected the flush.  Was it possible—?  But the thought set him tingling with disgust.

“Why, you say little,” he cried lightly, “at the rate at which I value my life.”

Alfieri turned on him.  “If your life is worthless; make it worth something!” he exclaimed.  “I offer you the opportunity tonight.”

“What opportunity?”

“The sight of a face that men have laid down their lives to see.”

Odo laughed and buckled on his sword.  “If you answer for the risk, I agree to take it,” said he.  “At ten o’clock then, behind the Corpus Domini.”