what means can
news reach you here of the happenings of the world without?"

He pondered a moment, seeking words in which to answer her. A score of
times during that week had he been on the point of disclosing himself,
of telling her who and what he was. Yet ever had he hesitated, putting
off that disclosure until the season should appear more fitting. This he
now considered the present. She trusted him, and there was no reason to
remain silent longer. Perhaps already he had delayed too long, and so he
was about to speak when she started from his side, and crossed hastily
to the window, alarmed by the sound of approaching steps. A second later
the door opened, and Gonzaga appeared.

A moment he hesitated in the doorway, looking from one to the other, and
Francesco, lazily regarding him in his turn, noted that his cheeks were
pale and that his eyes glittered like those of a man with the fever.
Then he stepped forward, and, leaving the door open behind him, he
advanced into the room.

"Monna Valentina, I have something to communicate to you." His voice
shook slightly. "Messer--Francesco, will you give us leave?" And his
feverish eyes moved to the open door with an eloquence that asked no
words.

Francesco rose slowly, endeavouring to repress his surprise and glanced
across at Valentina, as if awaiting her confirmation or refusal of this
request that he should leave them.

"A communication for me?" she marvelled, a slight frown drawing her
brows together. "Of what nature, sir?"

"Of a nature as important as it is private."

She raised her chin, and with a patient smile she seemed to beg of
Francesco that he would suffer her to humour this mood of Gonzaga's. In
quick obedience Francesco inclined his head.

"I shall be in my chamber until the hour of my rounds, Madonna," he
announced, and with that took his departure.

Gonzaga attended him to the door, which he closed after him, and
composing his features to an expression of sorrowing indignation, he
came back and stood facing Valentina across the table.

"Madonna," he said, "I would to Heaven this communication I have to make
to you came from other lips. In the light of what has passed--here at
Roccaleone--through my folly--you--you may think my mission charged with
vindictiveness."

Perplexity stared at him from her eyes.

"You fill me with alarm, my good Gonzaga," she answered him, though
smiling.

"Alas it has fallen to my unfortunate lot to do more than