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He was a trifle pale, he carried his cloak on the right shoulder, instead of the left, and in general his apparel was less meticulous than usual, and showed signs of hasty donning. With a curt nod to the Count, and an utter ignoring of Fortemani who was scowling upon him in memory of yesterday he bowed low before Valentina. "I am distraught, Madonna " he began, when she cut him short.
They had been there since supper, discussing the wisdom of going or remaining, of fleeing or standing firm to receive Gian Maria. Their conference was interrupted now by Ercole with his complaint. She despatched Gonzaga to quell the men, a course that Fortemani treated to a covert sneer.
There followed a pause, during which Ercole stood with bent head like one who thinks, and Francesco turned his wonder-laden glance upon this slight girl with the gentle brown eyes which had been so tender and pitiful. Marvelling at the greatness of her spirit, he grew all unconsciously the more enslaved. Gonzaga, all unconcerned in this, eyed Fortemani in expectation of his answer.
There was a mighty roar drowned in a mightier splash as Fortemani, spread-eagle, struck the surface and sank from sight, whilst with the flying spray there came a fetid odour to tell of the unsavouriness of that unexpected bath. Without pausing to see the completion of his work, Francesco stooped over his prostrate servant. "Have the beasts hurt you, Lanciotto?" he questioned.
Ercole went, and Peppe, remaining, plagued the Count with questions which he answered until in the end the fool caught the drift of his scheme, and swore impudently that a greater jester than his Excellency did not live. Then Ercole returned. "Is it done? Has the letter gone?" cried Francesco. Fortemani nodded.
Francesco would not make his rounds for another hour, and by then it would not matter what Fortemani told him. In one way or another he would be able to account for his action. He crossed the courtyard, and mounted the steps leading to his own chamber. Once there, he closed and barred the door.
"How know you it proceeded from Urbino?" quoth the captain earnestly. "Because at its head I recognised the roaring warrior Ercole Fortemani, in the middle rode Romeo Gonzaga, in the rear came Fra Domenico, Madonna's confessor men of Urbino all." The officer's face grew purple at the news. "Were there any women in the party?" he cried.
Confidence, too, did Ercole gather from that magnetism of Francesco's unfaltering confidence; for he seemed to treat the matter as a great jest, a comedy played for the Duke of Babbiano and at that same Duke's expense. And just as Francesco's brisk tone breathed confidence into Fortemani and Valentina, so, too, did it breathe it into Fortemani's wretched followers.
"Stem the treachery of that rabble," he answered shortly. "Stay you here, Madonna. Fortemani and I will pacify them or make an end of them." And so grimly did he say it that Gonzaga believed it to lie within his power. "But you are mad!" she cried, and the fear in her eyes increased. "What can you do against twenty?"
"And you a soldier, Cappoccio?" sneered Francesco. "Shall I tell you in what Fortemani was wrong when he enlisted you? He was wrong in not hiring you for scullion duty in the castle kitchen." "Sir Knight!" "Bah! Do you raise your voice to me? Do you think I am of your kind, animal, to be affrighted by sounds however hideous?" "I am not affrighted by sounds." "Are you not?
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