He took
a deep breath.
"It would seem, sirs, that I was right," said he, with a touch of
sternness, "and that treason is indeed your business."
"My Lord of Aquila," Fabrizio answered him, "we are traitors to a man
that we may remain faithful and loyal to a State."
"What State?" barked the Lord of Aquila contemptuously.
"The Duchy of Babbiano," came the answer.
"You would be false to the Duke that you may be faithful to the Duchy?"
he questioned, scorn running ever stronger in his voice. "Sirs, it is a
riddle I'll not pretend to solve."
There fell a pause in which they eyed one another, and their glances were
almost as the glances of baffled men. They had not looked for such a
tone from him, and they questioned with their eyes and minds the wisdom
of going further. At last, with a half-sigh, Fabrizio da Lodi turned
once more to Aquila.
"Lord Count," he began, in a calm, impressive voice, "I am an old man;
the name I bear and the family from which I spring are honourable alike.
You cannot think so vilely of me as to opine that in my old age I should
do aught to smirch the fair fame of the one or of the other. To be named
a traitor, sir, is to be given a harsh title, and one, I think, that
could fit no man less than it fits me or any of these my companions.
Will you do me the honour, then, to hear me out, Excellency; and when you
have heard me, judge us. Nay, more than judgment we ask of you, Lord
Count. We ask for guidance that we may save our country from the ruin
that threatens it, and we promise you that we will take no step that has
not your sanction--that is not urged by you.
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