[Enter GUIDO FERRANTI and ASCANIO CRISTOFANO.]
ASCANIO
Now by my life, Guido, I will go no farther; for if I walk another
step I will have no life left to swear by; this wild-goose errand
of yours!
[Sits down on the step of the fountain.]
GUIDO
I think it must be here. [Goes up to passer-by and doffs his cap.]
Pray, sir, is this the market place, and that the church of Santa
Croce? [Citizen bows.] I thank you, sir.
ASCANIO
Well?
GUIDO
Ay! it is here.
ASCANIO
I would it were somewhere else, for I see no wine-shop.
GUIDO
[Taking a letter from his pocket and reading it.] 'The hour noon;
the city, Padua; the place, the market; and the day, Saint Philip's
Day.'
ASCANIO
And what of the man, how shall we know him?
GUIDO
[reading still] 'I will wear a violet cloak with a silver falcon
broidered on the shoulder.' A brave attire, Ascanio.
ASCANIO
I'd sooner have my leathern jerkin. And you think he will tell you
of your father?
GUIDO
Why, yes! It is a month ago now, you remember; I was in the
vineyard, just at the corner nearest the road, where the goats used
to get in, a man rode up and asked me was my name Guido, and gave
me this letter, signed 'Your Father's Friend,' bidding me be here
to-day if I would know the secret of my birth, and telling me how
to recognise the writer! I had always thought old Pedro was my
uncle, but he told me that he was not, but that I had been left a
child in his charge by some one he had never since seen.
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