dead-white.

Gonzaga sat on, entirely unmoved, and waited, indifferent to the stir
there was amid the Ten. For by the ancient laws of chivalry--however
much they might be falling now into desuetude--if Cosimo took up the
glove, the matter passed beyond the jurisdiction of the Court, and all
men must abide by the issue of the trial by battle.

For a long moment Cosimo hesitated. Then he saw ruin all about him.
He--who had come to this court so confidently--had walked into a trap.
He saw it now, and saw that the only loophole was the chance this combat
offered him. He played the man in the end. He stooped and took up the
glove.

"Upon your body, then--God helping me," he said.

Unable longer to control myself, I sprang to my father's side. I caught
his arm.

"Let me! Father, let me!"

He looked into my face and smiled, and the steel-coloured eyes seemed
moist and singularly soft.

"My son!" he said, and his voice was gentle and soothing as a woman's
caress.

"My father!" I answered him, a knot in my throat.

"Alas, that I must deny you the first thing you ask me by that name,"
he said. "But the challenge is given and accepted. Do you take Bianca
to the Duomo and pray that right may be done and God's will prevail.
Gervasio shall go with you."

And then came an interruption from Gonzaga.

"My lord," he said, "will you determine when and where this battle is to
be fought?"

"Upon the instant," answered my father, "on the banks of Po with a score
of lances to keep the lists."

Gonzaga looked at Cosimo. "Do you agree to this?"

"It cannot be too soon for me," replied the quivering Cosimo, black
hatred in his glance.

"Be it so, then," said the Governor, and he rose, the Court rising with
him.

My father pressed my hand again. "To the Duomo, Agostino, till I come,"
he said, and on that we parted.

My sword was returned to me by Gonzaga's orders. In so far as it
concerned myself the trial was at an end, and I was free.

At Gonzaga's invitation, very gladly I there and then swore fealty to
the Emperor upon his hands, and then, with Bianca and Gervasio, I made
my way through the cheering crowd and came out into the sunshine, where
my lances, who had already heard the news, set up a great shout at sight
of me.

Thus we crossed the square, and went to the Duomo, to render thanks. We
knelt at the altar-rail, and Gervasio knelt above us upon the altar's
lowest step.

Somewhere behind us knelt Bianca's wome