ards to the making of an
epic that was sung from Calabria to Piedmont, how this brave knight,
by his words, by the power of his will and the might of his presence,
curbed and subdued that turbulent score of rebellious hinds.

And from the wall above Valentina watched him, her eyes sparkling with
tears that had not their source in sorrow nor yet in fear, for she knew
that he must prevail. How could it be else with one so dauntless?

Thus thought she now. But in the moment of his going, fear had chilled
her to the heart, and when she first saw him take his stand before them,
she had turned half-distraught, and begged Gonzaga not to linger at her
side, but to go lend what aid he could to that brave knight who stood so
sorely in need of it. And Gonzaga had smiled a smile as pale as January
sunshine, and his soft blue eyes had hardened in their glance. Not
weakness now was it that held him there, well out of the dangerous
turmoil. For he felt that had he possessed the strength of Hercules, and
the courage of Achilles, he would not in that instant have moved a step
to Francesco's aid. And as much he told her.

"Why should I, Madonna?" he had returned coldly. "Why should I raise a
hand to help the man whom you prefer to me? Why should I draw sword in
the cause of this fortress?"

She looked at him with troubled eyes. "What are you saying, my good
Gonzaga?"

"Aye--your good Gonzaga!" he mocked her bitterly. "Your lap-dog, your
lute-thrummer; but not man enough to be your captain; not man enough to
earn a thought that is kinder than any earned by Peppe or your hounds.
I may endanger my neck to serve you, to bring you hither to a place of
safety from Gian Maria's persecution, and be cast aside for one who, it
happens, has a little more knowledge of this coarse trade of arms. Cast
me aside if you will," he pursued, with increasing bitterness, "but
having done so, do not ask me to serve you again. Let Messer Francesco
fight it out----"

"Hush, Gonzaga!" she interrupted. "Let me hear what he is saying."

And her tone told the courtier that his words had been lost upon
the morning air. Engrossed in the scene below she had not so much as
listened to his bitter tirade. For now Francesco was behaving oddly. The
fool was returned from the errand on which he had been despatched, and
Francesco called him to his side. Lowering his sword he received a paper
from Peppe's hand.

Burning with indignation at having gone unheeded, Gonzag