the bidding of that glance of hers, perhaps--took her by the
shoulders, whilst his whole soul looked at her from his eyes. Then, with
a stifled cry, he caught her to him. For a moment she lay, palpitant,
within his arms, her tall, bronze head on a level with his chin, her
heart beating against his heart. Stooping suddenly, he kissed her on the
lips. She suffered it with an unresistance that invited. But when it
was done, she gently put him from her; and he, obedient to her slightest
wish, curbed the wild ardour of his mood, and set her free.

"Anima mia!" he cried rapturously. "You are mine now, betide what may.
Not Gian Maria nor all the dukes in Christendom shall take you from me."

She set her hand upon his lips to silence him, and he kissed the palm,
so that laughing she drew back again. And now from laughter she passed
to a great solemnity, and with arm outstretched towards the ducal camp:
"Win me a way through those lines," said she, "and bear me away from
Urbino--far away where Guidobaldo's power and the vengeance of Gian
Maria may not follow us--and you shall have won me for your own. But
until then, let there be a truce to--to this, between us. Here is a
man's work to be done, and if I am weak as to-night, I may weaken you,
and then we should both be undone. It is upon your strength I count,
Franceschino mio, my true knight."

He would have answered her. He had much to tell her--who and what he
was. But she pointed to the head of the steps, where a man's figure
loomed.

"Yonder comes the sentinel," she said. "Leave me now, dear Francesco.
Go. It is growing late."

He bowed low before her, obedient ever, like the true knight he was, and
took his leave of her, his soul on fire.

Valentina watched his retreating figure until it had vanished round the
angle of the wall. Then with a profound sigh, that was as a prayer of
thanksgiving for this great good that had come into her life, she leaned
upon the parapet and looked out into the darkness, her cheeks flushed,
her heart still beating high. She laughed softly to herself out of the
pure happiness of her mood. The camp of Gian Maria became a subject for
her scorn. What should his might avail whilst she had such a champion to
defend her now and hereafter?

There was an irony in that siege on which her fancy fastened. By coming
thus in arms against her Gian Maria sought to win her for his wife; yet
all that he had accomplished was to place her in the arms of th