ny finer feelings. Yet his
verses have a merit that is far above the common note of these writings,
and they breathe such fine and lofty sentiments as could never spring
from any but a fine and lofty soul."

How I came to keep my tongue from wagging out the truth I scarcely know.
It may be that I was frightened of the punishment that might overtake
me did I betray my master; but I rather think that it was the fear of
betraying myself, and so being flung into the outer darkness where there
was no such radiant presence as Madonna Paola's. For had I told her it
was I had penned those poems that were the marvel of the Court, she must
of necessity have guessed my secret, for to such quick wits as hers it
must have been plain at once that they were no vapourings of artistry,
but the hot expressions of a burning truth. It was in that--in their
supreme sincerity--that their chief virtue lay.

Thus weeks wore on. The vintage season came and went; the roses faded
in the gardens of the Palazzo Sforza, and the trees put on their autumn
garb of gold. October was upon us, and with it came, at last, the fear
that long ago should have spurred us into activity. And now that it
came it did not come to stimulate, but to palsy. Terror-stricken at the
conquering advance of Valentino--which was the name they now gave Cesare
Borgia; a name derived from his Duchy of Valentinois--Giovanni Sforza
abruptly ceased his revelling, and made a hurried appeal for help to
Francesco Gonzaga, Lord of Mantua--his brother-in-law, through the
Lord of Pesaro's first marriage. The Mantuan Marquis sent him a hundred
mercenaries under the command of an Albanian named Giacomo. As well
might he have sent him a hundred figs wherewith to pelt the army of
Valentino!

Disaster swooped down swiftly upon the Lord of Pesaro. His very people,
seeing in what case they were, and how unprepared was their tyrant to
defend them, wisely resolved that they would run no risks of fire and
pillage by aiding to oppose the irresistible force that was being hurled
against us.

It was on the second Sunday in October that the storm burst over the
Lord Giovanni's head. He was on the point of leaving the Castle to
attend Mass at San Domenico, and in his company were Filippo Sforza of
Santafior and Madonna Paola, besides courtiers and attendants, amounting
in all to perhaps a score of gallant cavaliers and ladies. The cavalcade
was drawn up in the quadrangle, and Giovanni was on the po