agony.

"I am trained in the art of stealing into castles."

"I thought the French were more given to marching up to a castello in
broad daylight, banners flying, and taking it by storm," she said. Her
teeth flashed in the candlelight. He wished she would invite him to sit
down. But then he saw in what she said an opportunity to raise the
subject of trust.

"True, Madonna. We French excel at open warfare, whereas you Italians
seem more adept at intrigue."

"Intrigue? What do you mean?"

He tried to sound lighthearted. "Oh, for instance the clever way you
diverted my attention at the Palazzo Monaldeschi while David of
Trebizond had the Tartar ambassadors making fools of themselves."

For a moment she did not speak.

Then she said abruptly, "I bid you good night, Your Signory."

He drew back, shocked. "Madonna!"

"The same way you came will see you out."

"I but meant to praise your skill at diplomacy. I hope I have not given
offense."

"A gentleman always _knows_ when he is giving offense."

"I--I merely wish to clear--to set my mind at rest," Simon stammered. He
cursed himself for his heavy-handed attempt to test her. It was true,
the French were no good at intrigue.

"Rest your mind somewhere else." She went to the door and stood there,
back to him. Was she going to call for help? How embarrassing it would
be if he were caught here.

The beautiful curve of her back distracted and confused him still more.

"If you do not leave, I will," said Sophia, grasping the black iron door
handle. "You may stay in this room forever if you wish."

_What a brouillement I have made of this rendezvous._ Casting about
frantically in his mind, Simon wondered what his troubadour father,
Roland, would have done.

_Or Sire Tristan or Sire Gawain, what would they do now?_

There was no more time to think. He must act. He threw himself to his
knees, arms outstretched, and waited. A long, silent moment passed.
Finally Sophia turned her head. Her lips--those tender, rose-colored
lips--parted and her eyes widened. She turned all the way around.

She started to laugh.

"Laugh at me if you will, but do not cast me out." The sound of her
laughter was like the chiming of a bell. After a moment she stopped
laughing and smiled. A lovely smile, he thought, a kindly smile. He
could happily kneel here for as long as she went on smiling.

"I have never had a man kneel to me before." A faint vexation flickered
across her face. "