stood near the entrance
tower, the mock of Peppe, who from the stone-gallery above--much to
the amusement of Valentina's ladies and two pert pages that were with
him--applauded in high-flown terms their wondrous valour.

They stirred at last, but it was at Valentina's bidding. She had
been conferring with Gonzaga, who--giving it for his reason that she,
herself, might need protection--had remained beside her, well out of the
fray. She had been urging him to do something, and at last he had obeyed
her, and moved down the short flight of steps into the court; but so
reluctantly and slowly, that with an exclamation of impatience, she
suddenly brushed past him, herself to do the task she had begged of him.
Past Francesco she went, with a word of such commendation of his valour
and a look of such deep admiration, that the blood sprang, responsive,
to his cheek. She paused with a solicitous inquiry for the now risen but
sorely bruised Lanciotto. She flashed an angry look and an angry command
of silence at the great Ercole, still bellowing from his tank, and then,
within ten paces of his followers, she halted, and with wrathful mien,
and hand outstretched towards their captain, she bade them arrest him.

That sudden, unexpected order struck dumb the vociferous Fortemani. He
ceased, and gaped at his men, who eyed one another now in doubt; but the
doubt was quickly dispelled by the lady's own words:

"You will make him prisoner, and conduct him to the guardroom, or I
will have you and him swept out of my castle," she informed them, as
confidently as though she had a hundred men-at-arms to do her bidding on
them.

A pace or so behind her stood the lily-cheeked Gonzaga, gnawing his lip,
timid and conjecturing. Behind him again loomed the stalwart height
of Francesco del Falco with, at his side, Lanciotto, of mien almost as
resolute as his own.

That was the full force with which the lady spoke of sweeping them--as
if they had been so much foulness--from Roccaleone, unless they did
her bidding. They were still hesitating, when the Count advanced to
Valentina's side.

"You have heard the choice our lady gives you," he said sternly. "Let
us know whether you will obey or disobey. This choice that is yours now,
may not be yours again. But if you elect to disobey Madonna, the gate is
behind you, the bridge still down. Get you gone!"

Furtively, from under lowering brows, Gonzaga darted a look of impotent
malice at the Count. Wh