mise you that Valentina
della Rovere never shall become the wife of his Highness of Babbiano."

"You refuse to open your gates?" he returned, in a voice that shook with
anger.

"Utterly and finally."

"And you think to persist in this?"

"As long as I have life."

The Prince laughed sardonically.

"I wash my hands of the affair and of its consequences," he answered
grimly. "I leave it in the care of your future husband, Gian Maria
Sforza, and if, in his very natural eagerness for the nuptials, he uses
your castle roughly, the blame of it must rest with you. But what he
does, he does with my full sanction, and I have come hither to advise
you of it since you appeared in doubt. I beg that you will remain there
for a few moments, to hear what his Highness himself may have to say. I
trust his eloquence may prove more persuasive."

He saluted ceremoniously, and, wheeling his horse about, he rode away.
Valentina would have withdrawn, but Francesco urged her to remain, and
await the Duke of Babbiano's coming. And so they paced the battlements,
Valentina in earnest talk with Francesco, Gonzaga following in moody
silence with Fortemani, and devouring them with his eyes.

From their eminence they surveyed the bustling camp in the plain,
where tents, green, brown, and white, were being hastily erected by
half-stripped soldiers. The little army altogether, may have numbered
a hundred men, which, in his vainglory, Gian Maria accounted all that
would be needed to reduce Roccaleone. But the most formidable portion of
his forces rolled into the field even as they watched. It was heralded
by a hoarse groaning of the wheels of bullock-carts to the number of
ten, on each of which was borne a cannon. Other carts followed with
ammunition and victuals for the men encamped.

They looked on with interest at the busy scene that was toward, and as
they watched they saw Guidobaldo ride into the heart of the camp, and
dismount. Then from out of a tent more roomy and imposing than the rest
advanced the short, stout figure of Gian Maria, not to be recognised at
that distance save by the keen eyes of Francesco that were familiar with
his shape.

A groom held a horse for him and assisted him to mount, and then,
attended by the same trumpeter that had escorted Guidobaldo, he rode
forward towards the castle. At the edge of the moat he halted, and at
sight of Valentina and her company, he doffed his feathered hat, and
bowed his straw-coloure