er voice was not the voice of one that demands an
overwhelming proof ere she will believe.

"By my honour and my knighthood," he answered, in a ringing voice, "I
make oath here, at the foot of God's altar, that my purpose--my only
purpose--has been, is, and shall be to serve you, Monna Valentina."

"I believe you," she cried; to sob a moment later:

"Forgive me, Francesco, and may God, too, forgive my lack of faith in
you."

He softly breathed her name in such sweet accents that a happy peace
pervaded her, and the bright courage of yore shone in her brown eyes.

"Come, sirs!" he cried now, with a sudden briskness that startled them
into feverish obedience. "You, Fra Domenico, cut off your sacerdotals,
and gird high your habit. There is climbing for you. Here, a couple of
you, move aside that altar-step. My men and I have spent the night in
loosening its old hinges."

They raised the slab, and in the gap beneath it was disclosed a flight
of steps leading down to the dungeons and cellars of Roccaleone.

Down this they went in haste but in good order, marshalled by Francesco,
and when the last had passed down, he and Lanciotto, aided by others
below, who had seized a rope that he had lowered them, replaced the slab
from underneath, so that no trace should remain of the way by which they
had come.

A postern had been unbarred below by Fortemani, who had led the way with
a half-dozen of the men; and a huge scaling ladder that lay in readiness
in that subterranean gallery was rushed out across the moat, which at
this point was a roaring torrent.

Fortemani was the first to descend that sloping bridge, and upon
reaching the ground he made fast the lower end.

Next went a dozen men at Francesco's bidding, armed with the pikes
that had been left overnight in the gallery. At a word of command they
slipped quietly away. Then came the women, and lastly, the remainder of
the men.

Of the enemy they caught no glimpse; not so much as a sentry, for every
one of Gian Maria's men had been pressed into the investment of the
castle. Thus they emerged from Roccaleone, and made their way down that
rough bridge into the pleasant meadows to the south. Already Fortemani
and his dozen men had disappeared at the trot, making for the front of
the castle, when Francesco stepped last upon the bridge, and closed the
postern after him. Then he glided rapidly to the ground, and with the
assistance of a dozen ready hands he dragged away the