o, a look that was partly dismay
and partly pleasure lighted her face. She greeted him with such a smile
as she would bestow in that hour upon none but a trusted friend. Then,
with a look of regret:

"I am beyond measure grieved, sir, that you should thus stand committed
to my fortunes. They will have told you that already we are besieged,
and so you will see how your fate is now bound up with ours. For I fear
me there is no road hence for you until Gian Maria raises this siege.
The choice of going or remaining is no longer mine. We must remain, and
fight this battle out."

"At least, lady," he answered readily, gaily almost, "I cannot share
your regrets for me. The act of yours may be a madness, Madonna, but it
is the bravest, sweetest madness that ever was, and I shall be proud to
play my part if you'll assign me one."

"But, sir, I have no claim upon you!"

"The claim that every beset lady has upon a true knight," he assured
her. "I could ask no better employment for these arms of mine than in
your defence against the Duke of Babbiano. I am at your service, and
with a glad heart, Monna Valentina. I have seen something of war, and
you may find me useful."

"Make him Provost of Roccaleone, Madonna," urged Fortemani, whose
gratitude to the man who had saved his life was blent with an admiring
appreciation of his powers, of which the bully had had such practical
experience.

"You hear what Ercole says?" she cried, turning to Francesco with a
sudden eagerness that showed how welcome that suggestion was.

"It were too great an honour," he answered solemnly. "Yet, if you were
to place in my hands that trust, I would defend it to my last breath."

And then, before she could answer him, Gonzaga entered by the side-door,
and frowned to see Francesco there before him. He was a trifle pale,
he carried his cloak on the right shoulder, instead of the left, and in
general his apparel was less meticulous than usual, and showed signs of
hasty donning. With a curt nod to the Count, and an utter ignoring of
Fortemani--who was scowling upon him in memory of yesterday--he bowed
low before Valentina.

"I am distraught, Madonna----" he began, when she cut him short.

"You have little cause to be. Have things fallen out other than we
expected?"

"Perhaps not. Yet I had hoped that Gian Maria would not allow his humour
to carry him so far."

"You had hoped that--after the message Messer Francesco brought us?"
And she looked hi