etted the Count of Aquila, as did the lack of news from
Fanfulla; and he wondered vaguely what might be taking place at Babbiano
that Gian Maria should be content to sit idly before them, as though he
had months at his disposal in which to starve them into yielding. The
mystery would have been dispelled had he known that he had Gonzaga to
thank for this singular patience of Gian Maria's. For the courtier had
found occasion to send another letter-carrying shaft into the Duke's
camp, informing him of how and why the last plot had failed, and urging
Gian Maria to wait and trust in him to devise a better scheme for
delivering the castle into his power. He had promised boldly and
confidently enough, and Gian Maria--facts showed--had trusted to that
promise of his, and awaited its fulfilment. But tax his mind though he
did incessantly, no inspiration came to him, no scheme suggested itself
by which he might accomplish his treacherous purpose.

He employed the time cunningly to win back Valentina's favour and
confidence. On the morning after his stormy interview with Guidobaldo's
niece, he had confessed himself to Fra Domenico, and approached the
Sacrament. Every morning thereafter he appeared at Mass, and by the
piety and fervour of his devotions became an example to all the others.
Now this was not lost on Valentina, who was convent-bred, and in a
measure devout. She read in this singular alteration of his ways the
undoubtable indication of an altered character. That he had approached
the Sacrament on the morning after his wild words to her, she took
to mean that he repented him the viciousness of the animosity he
had entertained that he continued so extremely devout thereafter she
construed into meaning that his repentance was sincere and persistent.

And so she came to ask herself whether, indeed, he had not been as much
sinned against as sinning, and she ended by assuring herself that in a
measure the fault was hers. Seeing him so penitent, and concluding from
it that he was not likely to transgress again, she readmitted him to her
favour, and, little by little, the old friendly state was re-established
and was the sounder, perhaps, by virtue of her confidence that after
what had passed he would not again misunderstand her.

He did not, nor did he again allow his optimism and ever-ready vanity to
cozen him with false hopes. He read her with exact precision, and whilst
the reading but served to embitter him the more and r