My own duties are to be about hers, so far as I may."
"Fair and softly, my friend," said the Duke, "not so fast, if you please. Do you know that Maids of Honour may not marry without permission, and, in any case, may not be visited by their husbands during their service?"
"Magnificence, she was not married without permission. Or rather, she was married before permission was needed."
"Eh, how may that be now?" said Borso, tucking in his chin. "Did she come here as Signora Qualcosa?"
"She came here as Bellaroba, Magnificence. No one knows of our marriage but your Grace and the Holy Virgin."
"Then you are not married, but should be. That is your meaning—eh?"
"Ah, by Heaven, Magnificence," cried Angioletto, "we are the most married couple in the world!"
"H'm," was all Borso had to say to that. "And who made her of Madama's Court?"
"It was your Grace."
"Oh, of course, of course, man! But why the deuce did I do it?"
"It was at the request of Count Guarino Guarini, Magnificence?"
"Eh, eh! now I recollect. Ah, to be sure! That must be a very agreeable reflection for you at this moment, my friend," he said, with a sly look.
Angioletto took the equivoque with dignity, "I have perfect confidence in my wife, my lord Duke."
