ord was brought us, and I bade the herald be
admitted. Then I looked at Bianca. She was trembling and had turned very
white.

We spoke no word whilst they brought the messenger--a brisk fellow in
his black-and-yellow Austrian livery. He delivered me a sealed letter.
It proved to be a summons from Ferrante Gonzaga to appear upon the
morrow before the Imperial Court which would sit in the Communal Palace
of Piacenza to deliver judgment upon an indictment laid against me by
Cosimo d'Anguissola.

I looked at the herald, hesitation in my mind and glance. He held out a
second letter.

"This, my lord, I was asked by favour to deliver to you also."

I took it, and considered the superscription:

"These to the Most Noble Agostino d'Anguissola, at Pagliano.

Quickly.
Quickly.
Quickly."

The hand was Galeotto's. I tore it open. It contained but two lines:

"Upon your life do not fail to obey the Imperial summons. Send Falcone
to me here at once." And it was signed--"GALEOTTO."

"It is well," I said to the herald, "I will not fail to attend."

I bade the seneschal who stood in attendance to give the messenger
refreshment ere he left, and upon that dismissed him.

When we were alone I turned to Bianca. "Galeotto bids me go," I said.
"There is surely hope."

She took the note, and passing a hand over her eyes, as if to clear away
some mist that obscured her vision, she read it. Then she considered the
curt summons that gave no clue, and lastly looked at me.

"It is the end," I said. "One way or the other, it is the end. But
for Galeotto's letter, I think I should have refused to obey, and made
myself an outlaw indeed. As it is--there is surely hope!"

"O, Agostino, surely, surely!" she cried. "Have we not suffered enough?
Have we not paid enough already for the happiness that should be ours?
To-morrow I shall go with you to Piacenza."

"No, no," I implored her.

"Could I remain here?" she pleaded. "Could I sit here and wait? Could
you be so cruel as to doom me to such a torture of suspense?"

"But if... if the worst befalls?"

"It cannot," she answered. "I believe in God."

CHAPTER XV. THE WILL OF HEAVEN

In the Chamber of Justice of the Communal Palace sat that day not the
Assessors of the Ruota, but the Councillors in their damask robes--the
Council of Ten of the City of Piacenza. And to preside over them sat not
their Prior, but Ferrante Gonzaga himself, in a gown of scarlet velvet