a stood gnawing
his lip, whilst Valentina craned forward to catch Francesco's words.

"I have here a proof," he cried, "of what I tell you; proof of how
little Gian Maria is prepared to carry out his threats of cannon. It is
that fellow Cappoccio has seduced you with his talk. And you, like the
sheep you are, let yourselves be driven by his foul tongue. Now listen
to the bribe that Gian Maria offers to one within these walls if he can
contrive a means to deliver Roccaleone into his hands." And to Gonzaga's
paralysing consternation, he heard Francesco read the letter with which
Gian Maria had answered his proposed betrayal of the fortress. He
went white with fear and he leant against the low wall to steady
the tell-tale trembling that had seized him. Then Francesco's voice,
scornful and confident, floated up to his ears. "I ask you, my friends,
would his Highness of Babbiano be disposed to the payment of a
thousand gold florins if by bombardment he thought to break a way into
Roccaleone? This letter was written yesterday. Since then we have made
a brave display of cannon ourselves; and if yesterday he dared not fire,
think you he will to-day? But here, assure yourselves, if there is one
amongst you that can read."

He held out the letter to them. Cappoccio took it, and calling one
Aventano, he held it out in his turn. This Aventano, a youth who had
been partly educated for the Church, but had fallen from that lofty
purpose, now stood forward and took the letter. He scrutinised it, read
it aloud, and pronounced it genuine.

"Whom is it addressed to?" demanded Cappoccio.

"Nay, nay!" cried Francesco. "What need for that?"

"Let be," Cappoccio answered, almost fiercely. "If you would have us
remain in Roccaleone, let be. Aventano, tell me."

"To Messer Romeo Gonzaga," answered the youth, in a voice of wonder.

So evil a light leapt to Cappoccio's eye that Francesco carried his free
hand to the sword which he had lowered. But Cappoccio only looked up at
Gonzaga, and grinned malevolently. It had penetrated his dull wits that
he had been the tool of a judas, who sought to sell the castle for a
thousand florins. Further than that Cappoccio did not see; nor was he
very resentful, and his grin was rather of mockery than of anger. He was
troubled by no lofty notions of honour that should cause him to see in
this deed of Gonzaga's anything more than such a trickster's act as it
is always agreeable to foil. And then, to the o