eyed me squarely.

"You are a dauntless rogue," he confessed.

I laughed for answer, and in that moment it entered my mind that I might
yet enjoy some measure of revenge in this life. More than that, I might
benefit Madonna. For were the seed I was about to sow to take root in
the craven heart of Ramiro del' Orca, it would so fully occupy his mind
that he would have little time to bestow on Paola in the few hours that
were left him. But before I could bethink me of words, he was speaking
again.

"I held out to you a slender hope," said he. "I told you that there
was one little thing might save you. That hope has borne no fruit; the
little thing, I spoke of has not come to pass. It rested with Madonna
Paola, here. She had it in her hands to effect your salvation, but she
has refused. Your blood rests on her head."

She shuddered at the words, and a low moan escaped her. She covered her
face with her hands. A moment I stood looking at her; then I shifted my
glance to Ramiro.

"Will it please you, Illustrious, to allow me a few moments'
conversation with Madonna Paola di Santafior?"

I invested my tones with a weight of meaning that did not escape him.
His face suddenly lightened; whilst one of his officers--a fellow very
fitly named Lupone--laughed outright.

"Your hero seems none so heroic after all," he said derisively to the
Governor. "The imminence of death makes him amenable."

Ramiro scowled on him for answer. Then, turning to me--"Do you think you
could bend her stubbornness?" quoth he.

"I might attempt it," answered I.

His eyes flashed with evil hope; his lips parted in a smile. He shot
a glance at Madonna, who had withdrawn her hands from her face and
was regarding me now with a strange expression of horror and
incredulity--marvelling, no doubt, to find me such a craven as I must
have seemed.

Ramiro looked at the diminishing sunlight on the floor.

"In some five minutes the sun will have completely set," said he. "Those
five minutes you shall have to seek to enlist Madonna's aid on your
behalf. If you succeed--and she may tell you on what terms you are to
have your life--you shall depart from Cesena to-night a free man."

He paused a moment, and his eyes, lighted by an odious smile, rested
once more on Madonna Paula. Then he bade all withdraw, and went with
them into an adjoining chamber, fondly nurturing the hopes that were
begotten of his belief that Lazzaro Biancomonte was a villain.

Whe