"Colour me the
flask!" and "Catamites!" rang in his ears; but what the words signified
he knew not. In the end very badly beaten, and in very sorry and ragged
trim, many folk having gathered around them, they, albeit not without the
utmost difficulty, rescued him from Messer Filippo's hands, and told him
why Messer Filippo had thus used him, censuring him for sending him such
a message, and adding that thenceforth he would know Messer Filippo
better, and that he was not a man to be trifled with. Biondello told them
in tearful exculpation that he had never sent for wine to Messer Filippo:
then, when they had put him in a little better trim, crestfallen and
woebegone, he went home imputing his misadventure to Ciacco. And when,
many days afterwards, the marks of his ill-usage being gone from his
face, he began to go abroad again, it chanced that Ciacco met him, and
with a laugh:--"Biondello," quoth he, "how didst thou relish Messer
Filippo's wine?" "Why, as to that," replied Biondello, "would thou hadst
relished the lampreys of Messer Corso as much!" "So!" returned Ciacco,
"such meat as thou then gavest me, thou mayst henceforth give me, as
often as thou art so minded; and I will give thee even such drink as I
have given thee." So Biondello, witting that against Ciacco his might was
not equal to his spite, prayed God for his peace, and was careful never
to flout him again.
NOVEL IX.
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