-quick
to despond.

He rose and stretched himself with indolent relish, then pushing wide
his casement, he leaned out to breathe the morning air. A soft laugh
escaped him. He had been a fool indeed to plague himself with fears when
he had first heard of Gian Maria's coming. Properly viewed, it became a
service Gian Maria did him--whether they remained, or whether they went.
Love has no stronger promoter than a danger shared, and a week of such
disturbances as Gian Maria was likely to occasion them should do more
to advance his suit than he might hope to achieve in a whole month of
peaceful wooing. Then the memory of Francesco set a wrinkle 'twixt his
brows, and he bethought him how taken Valentina had been with the fellow
when first she had beheld him at Acquasparta, and of how, as she
rode that day, she had seen naught but the dark eyes of this Knight
Francesco.

"Knight Francesco of what or where?" he muttered to himself. "Bah! A
nameless, homeless adventurer; a swashbuckling bully, reeking of blood
and leather, and fit to drive such a pack as Fortemani's. But with a
lady--what shalt such an oaf attain, how shall he prevail?" He laughed
the incipient jealousy to scorn, and his brow grew clear, for now he was
in an optimistic mood--perhaps a reaction from his recent tremors.
"Yet, by the Host!" he pursued, bethinking him of the amazing boldness
Francesco had shown in the courtyard, "he has the strength of Hercules,
and a way with him that makes him feared and obeyed. Pish!" he laughed
again, as, turning, he unhooked his lute from where it hung upon the
wall. "The by-blow of some condottiero, who blends with his father's
bullying arrogance the peasant soul of his careless mother. And I fear
that such a one as that shall touch the heart of my peerless Valentina?
Why, it is a thought that does her but poor honour."

And dismissing Francesco from his mind, he sought the strings with his
fingers, and thrummed an accompaniment as he returned to the window, his
voice, wondrous sweet and tender, breaking into a gentle love-song.

CHAPTER XV. THE MERCY OF FRANCESCO

Monna Valentina and her ladies dined at noon in a small chamber opening
from the great hall, and thither were bidden Francesco and Gonzaga. The
company was waited upon by the two pages, whilst Fra Domenico, with
a snow-white apron girt about his portentous waist, brought up the
steaming viands from the kitchen where he had prepared them; for, like
a tr