and mute despair. And then an
approaching clank of mail heralded the coming of the captain.

Rinolfo held the door, and Cosimo d'Anguissola entered with a firm,
proud tread, two of his men, following at his heels.

He wore a buff-coat, under which no doubt there would be a shirt of
mail; his gorget and wristlets were of polished steel, and his headgear
was a steel cap under a cover of peach-coloured velvet. Thigh-boots
encased his legs; sword and dagger hung in the silver carriages at his
belt; his handsome, aquiline face was very solemn.

He bowed profoundly to my mother, who rose to respond, and then he
flashed me one swift glance of his piercing eyes.

"I deplore my business here," he announced shortly. "No doubt it will be
known to you already." And he looked at me again, allowing his eyes to
linger on my face.

"I am ready, sir," I said.

"Then we had best be going, for I understand that none could be less
welcome here than I. Yet in this, Madonna, let me assure you that there
is nothing personal to myself. I am the slave of my office. I do but
perform it."

"So much protesting where no doubt has been expressed," said Fra
Gervasio, "in itself casts a doubt upon your good faith. Are you not
Cosimo d'Anguissola--my lord's cousin and heir?"

"I am," said he, "yet that has no part in this, sir friar."

"Then let it have part. Let it have the part it should have. Will you
bear one of your own name and blood to the gallows? What will men say of
that when they perceive your profit in the deed?"

Cosimo looked him boldly between the eyes, his hawk-face very white.

"Sir priest, I know not by what right you address me so. But you do
me wrong. I am the Podesta of Piacenza bound by an oath that it would
dishonour me to break; and break it I must or else fulfil my duty here.
Enough!" he added, in his haughty, peremptory fashion. "Ser Agostino, I
await your pleasure."

"I will appeal to Rome," cried Fra Gervasio, now beside himself with
grief.

Cosimo smiled darkly, pityingly. "It is to be feared that Rome will turn
a deaf ear to appeals on behalf of the son of Giovanni d'Anguissola."

And with that he motioned me to precede him. Silently I pressed Fra
Gervasio's hand, and on that departed without so much as another look at
my mother, who sat there a silent witness of a scene which she approved.

The men-at-arms fell into step, one on either side of me, and so we
passed out into the courtyard, where Cosimo's