run,  but  in  his  name.  This  unshaven  hedger
bore  the  arms  which  Pistoja  had  assumed  in  his
right — the  chequer-board  arms,  the  White  and  the
Black.  In  this  man's  blood  had  been  brewed
that  infernal  drink  which  drove  Florence  mad
and  Corso  Donati  to  a  dog's  death.^     All  this  I

^   See  Appendix  to  this  chapter.
138         THE  ROAD  IN  TUSCANY       chap.
told    him.       "Your    forefather,    my    dear   sir,"    I
ended,  *'was  tyrant  of  Pistoja."

The  last  of  the  Cancellieri  took  this  at  first
with  great  phlegm.
'*  He  may  have  been,  for  all  I  know,"  he  said  ;
'*  but  my  own  father  was  a  road-mender,  and  broke
stones  betwixt  Piastre  and  Cireglio.  He  was
famous  for  it.  You  have  been  walking  on  his
metal  this  morning,  I  doubt,  and  permit  me  to
say  there  is  no  better.  Tyrant  of  Pistoja,  was
he  ?  Well,  there's  a  trade  for  a  man ! "  The
humour  of  it  now  tickling  him,  he  laughed  gaily.
I  said  that  I  considered  it  a  less  reputable
trade  than  road-mending  ;  but  Cancellieri  would
have  his  laugh  out  now  that  he  had  caught  it.
''Why,  it  may  be  so,"  he  allowed.  ''I  don't
care  to  ^ dispute  it.  But  what  gravels  me  is  the
justice  of  it.  My  grandfather,  as  you  may  say,
walked  soft-foot  upon  the  sweat  of  the  Pistolesi,
and  now  here  are  the  Pistolesi  doing  the  same
by  my  father.  Well,  well,  that's  as  good  as  a
comedy  any  day."

''  The  thought  consoles  you  ?  "  I  asked.  He
raised  an  eyebrow ;  it  is  thus  the  Tuscans  usually
shrug.
''  I  say  that  it  tickles  me,"  he  answered.
