person his forgery to the Duke. Suspicious of his mask, they asked him
who he was and whence he came.

"Say one who desires to remain unknown with a letter for the Duke of
Gandia which his magnificence will welcome."

Reluctantly, a chamberlain departed with his message. Anon he was
conducted above to the magnificent apartments which Gandia occupied
during his sojourn there.

He found the Duke newly risen, and with him his brother, the
auburn-headed young Cardinal of Valencia, dressed in a close-fitting
suit of black, that displayed his lithe and gracefully athletic
proportions, and a cloak of scarlet silk to give a suggestion of his
ecclesiastical rank.

Giovanni bowed low, and, thickening his voice that it might not be
recognized, announced himself and his mission in one.

"From the lady of the rose," said he, proffering the letter.

Valencia stared a moment; then went off into a burst of laughter.
Gandia's face flamed and his eyes sparkled. He snatched the letter,
broke its seal, and consumed its contents. Then he flung away to a
table, took up a pen, and sat down to write; the tall Valencia watching
him with amused scorn a while, then crossing to his side and setting a
hand upon his shoulder.

"You will never learn," said the more subtle Cesare. "You must forever
be leaving traces where traces are not to be desired."

Gandia looked up into that keen, handsome young face.

"You are right," he said; and crumpled the letter in his hand.

Then he looked at the messenger and hesitated.

"I am in Madonna's confidence," said the man in the mask.

Gandia rose. "Then say--say that her letter has carried me to Heaven;
that I but await her commands to come in person to declare myself. But
bid her hasten, for within two weeks from now I go to Naples, and thence
I may return straight to Spain."

"The opportunity shall be found, Magnificent. Myself I shall bring you
word of it."

The Duke loaded him with thanks, and in his excessive gratitude pressed
upon him at parting a purse of fifty ducats, which Giovanni flung into
the Tiber some ten minutes later as he was crossing the Bridge of Sant'
Angelo on his homeward way.

The Lord of Pesaro proceeded without haste. Delay and silence he knew
would make Gandia the more sharp-set, and your sharp-set, impatient
fellow is seldom cautious. Meanwhile, Antonia had mentioned to her
father that princely stranger who had stared so offendingly one evening,
and who for an hour