the order: "Bring the two women before me."

He did justice ever in the open. A broad green field outside one of the
gates served him for court. Two gibbets and an open pit stood for the
terror of the law; he himself, on a gilt chair under a canopy, for the
majesty of it. The day was bright, breezy, and white-clouded. The
poplars twinkled innumerably, the long Este gonfalon flacked and
strained in the wind. Spectators with soldiery to hedge them kept a wide
square about the plain. From their side the figures in the midst--the
red, gold, and white about the pavilion, the steel of the soldiers, the
drooping women between them--were about as real as a handful of
marionettes. It seemed impossible such puppets could decide issues of
life and death. But the red hangman and his machines were grim touches
for a puppet-show.

Olimpia Castaneve was brought forward first. She was more composed by
now--the air, the sun, the cheerful colours of the court, had warmed
her. She stood alone facing Borso. He, at first glance, remembered every
shred of her; but he betrayed nothing. There was no one more blankly
cool in this world than Borso on the judgment-seat.

"What is your name, mistress?"

"Magnificence, I am well known in Ferrara."

"Your name," thundered the Duke, "by the face of the sky!"

"Olimpia Castaneve."

"Did you cut off the head of the Captain of Lances, who was called Il
Mosca?"

Olimpia was looking very handsome, and knew it.

"Magnificence," she said, "my hand is on my heart." It was.

"What the devil has that got to do with it?" asked Borso, looking about
him for a reason.

"Serenity, if my heart were guilty, it would burn my hand. If my hand
were red, it would soil my heart."

"Pouf!" said Borso, and puckered his face. "Stand back, Castaneve. Now
for the little one. How are you called, baggage?"

Bellaroba shivered a very little, and looked solemn.

"Bellaroba, my lord."

"Very pretty; but I must have more."

"There is no more, my lord. I am wife of Angioletto."

"Well, well. I know Master Angioletto, and he me. We'll have him here, I
think. Hi, you!" said he, turning to an officer of his guards. "Go and
fetch the chimney-sweep."

Ten minutes passed; then Angioletto came up between a detachment of men,
unbound. He was not observed to falter throughout his course over the
broad field; but his eyes were fever bright and colour noticeably high.
Bellaroba did not look up at him; her eyelids fluttere