Gonzaga's courage seems of a quality that wanes as the need for
it increases," said Valentina.

"You are confounding courage, Madonna, with foolhardy recklessness," the
courtier returned. "You may learn it to your undoing."

That Gonzaga was not the only one entertaining this opinion they were
soon to learn, for, as they reached the courtyard a burly, black-browed
ruffian, Cappoccio by name, thrust himself in their path.

"A word with you, Messer Gonzaga, and you, Ser Ercole." His attitude
was full of truculent insolence, and all paused, Francesco and Valentina
turning from him to the two men whom he addressed, and waiting to hear
what he might have to say to them. "When I accepted service under you,
I was given to understand that I was entering a business that should
entail little risk to my skin. I was told that probably there would be
no fighting, and that if there were, it would be no more than a brush
with the Duke's men. So, too, did you assure my comrades."

"Did you indeed?" quoth Valentina, intervening, and addressing herself
to Fortemani, to whom Cappoccio's words had been directed.

"I did, Madonna," answered Ercole. "But I had Messer Gonzaga's word for
it."

"Did you," she continued, turning to Gonzaga, "permit their engagement
on that understanding?"

"On some such understanding, yes, Madonna," he was forced to confess.

She looked at him a moment in amazement. Then:

"Msser Gonzaga," she said at length, "I think that I begin to know you."

But Cappoccio, who was nowise interested in the extent of Valentina's
knowledge of the man, broke in impetuously:

"Now we have heard what has passed between this new Provost here and his
Highness of Babbiano. We have heard the terms that were offered, and
his rejection of them, and I am come to tell you, Ser Ercole, and you,
Messer Gonzaga, that I for one will not remain here to be hanged when
Roccaleone shall fall into the hands of Gian Maria. And there are others
of my comrades who are of the same mind."

Valentina looked at the rugged, determined features of the man, and
fear for the first time stole into her heart and was reflected on her
countenance. She was half-turning to Gonzaga, to vent upon him some of
the bitterness of her humour--for him she accounted to blame--when once
again Francesco came to the rescue.

"Now, shame on you, Cappoccio, for a paltry hind! Are these words for
the ears of a besieged and sorely harassed lady, craven?"

"I am n