ght in
the ante-room of Francesco's chamber. These orders he had exceeded by
spending a considerable portion of the night in the Count's very room.

"You have but to speak," the bully had sworn, by way of showing
Francesco the true nature of his feelings, "and the castle is yours. At
a word from you my men will flock to obey you, and you may do your will
at Roccaleone."

"Foul traitor that you are," Francesco had laughed at him. "Do you
forget under whom you have taken service? Let be what is, Ercole. But
if a favour you would do me, let me see Zaccaria--the man that came to
Roccaleone to-night."

This Ercole had done for him. Now Zaccaria was fully aware of the
contents of the letter he had carried, having been instructed by
Fanfulla against the chance arising of his being compelled, for his
safety, to destroy it--an expedient to which he now bitterly repented
him that he had not had recourse. From Zaccaria, then, Francesco learnt
all that there was to learn, and since the knowledge but confirmed his
fears that Gian Maria would delay action no longer, he fell a prey to
the most passionate impatience at his own detention.

In the grey hours of the morning he grew calmer, and by the light of
a lamp that he had called Ercole to replenish, he sat down to write a
letter to Valentina, which he thought should carry conviction of his
honesty to her heart. Since she would not hear him, this was the only
course. At the end of an hour--his moribund light grown yellow now that
the sun was risen--his letter was accomplished, and he summoned Ercole
again, to charge him to deliver it at once to Monna Valentina.

"I shall await her return from chapel," answered Ercole. He took the
letter and departed. As he emerged into the courtyard he was startled to
see the fool dash towards him, gasping for breath, and with excitement
in every line of his quaint face.

"Quickly, Ercole!" Peppe enjoined him. "Come with me."

"Devil take you, spawn of Satan--whither?" growled the soldier.

"I will tell you as we go. We have not a moment to spare. There is
treachery afoot---- Gonzaga----" he gasped, and ended desperately: "Will
you come?"

Fortemani needed no second bidding. The chance of catching pretty Messer
Romeo at a treachery was too sweet a lure. Snorting and puffing--for
hard drinking had sorely impaired his wind--the great captain hurried
the fool along, listening as they went to the gasps in which he brought
out his story. It was