I looked up and saw a Franciscan friar standing by my side. On his back he bore a sack; I supposed he was collecting food.
'Sir, I pray you for alms for the sick and needy.'
I drew out a piece of gold and threw it to him.
'When one gives alms to a beggar, it is so that he may not importune one,' I said.
'Ah, no; it is for the love of God and charity. But I do not wish to importune you, I thought I might help you.'
He left me, and I returned to my old position. I felt as if a sheet of lead were pressing upon my head. A moment later a gruff voice broke in upon me.
I looked up. At the first glance I did not recognise the speaker; but then as I cleared my mind I saw it was Ercole Piacentini. What was he doing here? Then I remembered that it was on the road to Forli. I supposed he had received orders to leave Castello and was on his way to his old haunts. However, I did not want to speak to him; I bent down, and again clasped my head in my hands.
'That is a civil way of answering,' he said. 'Messer Filippo!'
'If I do not answer, it is evidently because I do not wish to speak to you.'
'Then I must take the liberty of begging you to hold your tongue.'
'Have the goodness to leave me,' I said. 'You bore me intensely.'
'I tell you that you are an insolent fellow, and I shall do as I please.'
'Are you a beggar, that you are so importunate? What do you want?'
'Do you remember saying in Forli that you would fight me when the opportunity presented itself. It has! And I am ready, for I have to thank you for my banishment from Castello.'
'When I offered to fight you, sir, I thought you were a gentleman. Now that I know your condition, I must decline.'
'Surely it is not cowardice to refuse a duel with a person like yourself?'
By this time he was wild with rage; but I was cool and collected.
'Have you so much to boast?' he asked furiously.
I sprang up and looked at him with a look of horror. He laughed scornfully and repeated,--
Now it was my turn. The blood rushed to my head and a terrible rage seized me. I picked up the tankard of wine which was on the table and flung it at him with all my might. The wine splashed over his face, and the cup hit him on the forehead and cut him so that the blood trickled down. In a moment he had drawn his sword, and at the same time I wrenched mine from its sheath.