ng into
her brain. An odd laugh broke from her. She made a gesture towards
Francesco.

"Fortemani, you will place the Count of Aquila under arrest," she
commanded, in a stern, steady voice, "and as you value your life you
will see that he does not elude you."

The great bully hesitated. His knowledge of Francesco's methods was not
encouraging.

"Madonna!" gasped Francesco, his bewilderment increasing.

"Did you hear me, Fortemani," she demanded. "Remove him."

"My lord?" cried Lanciotto, laying hand to his sword his eyes upon his
master's, ready to draw and lay about him at a glance of bidding.

"Sh! Let be," answered Franeesco coldly. "Here, Messer Fortemani." And
he proffered his dagger, the only weapon that he carried.

Valentina, calling Gonzaga to attend her, made shift to quit the
apartment. At that Francesco seemed to awaken to his position.

"Madonna, wait," he cried, and he stepped deliberately before her. "You
must hear me. I have surrendered in earnest of my faith and confident
that once you have heard me----"

"Captain Fortemani," she cried, almost angrily, "will you restrain your
prisoner? I wish to pass."

Ercole, with visible reluctance, laid a hand on Francesco's shoulder;
but it was unnecessary. Before her words, the Count recoiled as if
he had been struck. He stood clear of her path with a gasp at once of
unbelief and angry resignation. An instant his eyes rested on Gonzaga,
so fiercely that the faint smile withered on the courtier's lips, and
his knees trembled under him as he hastened from the room in Valentina's
wake.

CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE ARMOURY TOWER

The rough stones of the inner courtyard shone clean and bright in
the morning sun, still wet with the heavy rains that had washed them
yesternight.

The fool sat on a rude stool within the porch of the long gallery, and,
moodily eyeing that glistening pavement, ruminated. He was angry,
which, saving where Fra Domenico was concerned, was a rare thing with
good-humoured Peppe. He had sought to reason with Monna Valentina
touching the imprisonment in his chamber of Messer Francesco, and she
had bidden him confine his attention to his capers with a harshness
he had never known in her before. But he had braved her commands, and
astonished her with the information that the true identity of this
Messer Francesco had been known to him since that day when they had
first met him at Acquasparta. He had meant to say more. He had meant