er a thought to the smarting that must be with Gonzaga at the loss of
rank he had suffered since Valentina had appointed a provost.

"And are these your methods of fortifying Roccaleone?" he asked, in a
voice that cut like a knife. "You have laid in good store of wine, a
flock of sheep, and endless delicacies, sir," he jeered. "Did you expect
to pelt the enemy with these, or did you reckon upon no enemy at all?"

Now this question touched so closely upon the truth, that it fired in
Gonzaga's bosom an anger that for the moment made a man of him. It was
the last breath that blew into a blaze the smouldering wrath he carried
in his soul.

His retort came fierce and hot. It was as unmeasured and contemptuous as
Francesco's erst recriminations, and it terminated in a challenge to
the Count to meet him on horse or foot, with sword or lance, and that as
soon as might be.

But Valentina intervened, and rebuked them both. Yet to Francesco her
rebuke was courteous, and ended in a prayer that he should do the
best with such resources as Roccaleone offered; to Gonzaga it was
contemptuous in the last degree, for Francesco's question--which Gonzaga
had left unanswered--coming at a moment when she was full of suspicions
of Gonzaga, and the ends he had sought to serve in advising her upon a
course which he had since shown himself so utterly unfitted to guide,
had opened wide her eyes. She remembered how strangely moved he had been
upon learning yesterday that Gian Maria was marching upon Roccaleone,
and how ardently he had advised flight from the fortress--he that had so
bravely talked of holding it against the Duke.

They were still wrangling there in a most unseemly fashion when a
trumpet-blast reached them from beyond the walls.

"The herald again," she cried. "Come, Messer Francesco, let us hear what
fresh message he brings."

She led Francesco away, leaving Gonzaga in the shadow of the vines,
reduced well-nigh to tears in the extremity of his mortification.

The herald was returned with the announcement that Valentina's answer
left Gian Maria no alternative but to await the arrival of Duke
Guidobaldo, who was then marching to join him. The Duke of Urbino's
presence would be, he thought, ample justification in her eyes for the
challenge Gian Maria had sent, and which he would send again when her
uncle arrived to confirm it.

Thereafter, the remainder of the day was passed in peace at Roccaleone,
if we except the very hell