it proof of his honesty of
purpose or loyalty to you? Be advised, Madonna, and let him deliver his
message from where he is. He is safer there."

She measured him with a determined eye.

"Messer Gonzaga, order them to lower the bridge," she bade him.

"But, lady, bethink you of your peril."

"Peril?" she echoed. "Peril from two men, and we a garrison of over
twenty? Surely the man is a coward who talks so readily of perils. Have
the drawbridge lowered."

"But if----" he began, with a desperate vehemence, when again she cut
him short.

"Am I to be obeyed? Am I mistress, and will you bid them lower the
bridge, or must I, myself, go see to it?"

With a look of despairing anger and a shrug of the shoulders he turned
from her, and despatched one of his men with an order. A few moments
later, with a creaking of hinges and a clanking of chains, the great
bridge swung down and dropped with a thud to span the gulf. Instantly
the Count spurred his horse forward, and followed by Lanciotto rode
across the plank and under the archway of the entrance tower into the
first courtyard.

Now, scarcely had he drawn rein there when through a door at the far end
appeared the gigantic figure of Fortemani, half-clad and sword in hand.
At sight of Francesco the fellow leaped down a half-dozen steps, and
advanced towards him with a burst of oaths.

"To me!" he shouted, in a voice that might have waked the dead. "Ola!
Ola! What devil's work is this? How come you here? By whose orders was
the bridge let down?"

"By the orders of Monna Valentina's captain," answered Francesco,
wondering what madman might be this.

"Captain?" cried the other, coming to a standstill and his face turning
purple. "Body of Satan! What captain? I am captain here."

The Count looked him over in surprise.

"Why, then," said he, "you are the very man I seek. I congratulate you
on the watch you keep, Messer Capitano. Your castle is so excellently
patrolled that had I been minded for a climb I had scaled your walls and
got within your gates without arousing any of your slumbering sentries."

Fortemani eyed him with a lowering glance. The prosperity of the past
four days had increased the insolence inherent in the man.

"Is that your affair?" he growled menacingly. "You are over-bold, sir
stranger, to seek a quarrel with me, and over-pert to tell me how I
shall discharge my captaincy. By the Passion! You shall be punished."

"Punished--I?" echoed Francesco