orn: "Out yonder sits a
duke. Oh, sir, how shall I account presumptuous in you the very words
that I would hear? What does your rank signify to me? I know you for the
truest knight, the noblest gentleman, and the most valiant friend
that ever came to the aid of distressed maiden. Do you forget the very
principles that have led me to make this resistance? That I am a woman,
and ask of life no more than is a woman's due--and no less."

There she stopped; again the blood suffused her cheeks as she bethought
her of how fast she talked, and of how bold her words might sound. She
turned slightly from him, and leant now upon the parapet, gazing out
into the night. And as she stood thus, a very ardent voice it was that
whispered in her ear:

"Valentina, by my soul, I love you!" And there that whisper, which
filled her with an ecstasy that was almost painful in its poignancy,
ended sharply as if throttled. Again his hand sought hers, which was
yielded to him as she would have yielded her whole life at his sweet
bidding, and now his voice came less passionately.

"Why delude ourselves with cruel hopes, my Valentina?" he was saying.
"There is the future. There is the time when this siege shall be done
with, and when, Gian Maria having got him home, you will be free to
depart. Whither will you go?"

She looked at him as if she did not understand the question, and her
eyes were troubled, although in such light as there was he could scarce
see this.

"I will go whither you bid me. Where else have I to go?" she added, with
a note of bitterness.

He started. Her answer was so far from what he had expected.

"But your uncle----?"

"What duty do I owe to him? Oh, I have thought of it, and until--until
this morning, it seemed that a convent must be my ultimate refuge. I
have spent most of my young life at Santa Sofia, and the little that I
have seen of the world at my uncle's court scarce invites me to see
more of it. The Mother Abbess loved me a little. She would take me back,
unless----"

She broke off and looked at him, and before that look of absolute and
sweet surrender his senses swam. That she was niece to the Duke
of Urbino he remembered no more than that he was Count of Aquila,
well-born, but of none too rich estate, and certainly no more a
match for her in Guidobaldo's eyes than if he had been the simple
knight-errant that he seemed.

He moved closer to her, his hands--as if obeying a bidding greater than
his will,