n the
hilt of the sword that seemed a part of him, and the eyes so calm;
whilst when he spoke of perils, they seemed to dwindle 'neath the
disdain of them so manifest in his tone.

With Fortemani at his heels he went about the execution of the measures
he had suggested, the bully following him now with the faithful wonder
of a dog for its master, realising that here, indeed, was a soldier of
fortune by comparison with whom the likes of himself were no better than
camp-followers. Confidence, too, did Ercole gather from that magnetism
of Francesco's unfaltering confidence; for he seemed to treat the matter
as a great jest, a comedy played for the Duke of Babbiano and at
that same Duke's expense. And just as Francesco's brisk tone breathed
confidence into Fortemani and Valentina, so, too, did it breathe it into
Fortemani's wretched followers. They grew zestful in the reflection of
his zest, and out of admiration for him they came to admire the business
on which they were engaged, and, finally, to take a pride in the part he
assigned to each of them. Within an hour there was such diligent
bustle in Roccaleone, such an air of grim gaiety and high spirits, that
Valentina, observing it, wondered what manner of magician was this she
had raised to the command of her fortress, who in so little time could
work so marvellous a change in the demeanour of her garrison.

Once only did Francesco's light-heartedness fail him, and this was when,
upon visiting the armoury, he found but one single cask of gunpowder
stored there. He turned to Fortemani to inquire where Gonzaga had
bestowed it, and Fortemani being as ignorant as himself upon the subject
he went forthwith in quest of Gonzaga. After ransacking the castle
for him, he found him pacing the vine-alley in the garden in animated
conversation with Valentina. At his approach the courtier's manner grew
more subdued, and his brows sullen.

"Messer Gonzaga," Francesco hailed him. The courtier, surprised, looked
up. "Where have you hidden your store of powder?"

"Powder?" faltered Gonzaga, chilled by a sudden apprehension. "Is there
none in the armoury?"

"Yes--one small cask, enough to load a cannon once or twice, leaving us
nothing for our hand-guns. Is that your store?"

"If that is all there is in the armoury, that is all we have."

Franceseo stood speechless, staring at him, a dull flush creeping into
his cheeks. In that moment of wrath he forgot their positions, and gave
nev