In exchange for this power
that was offered him what must he give? His glorious liberty. Become
their lord in many things, to be their slave in more. Nominally to rule,
but actually to be ruled, until, should he fail to do his rulers' will,
there would be some night another meeting such as this, in which men
would plot to encompass his downfall and to supplant him as he was
invited to supplant Gian Maria. Lastly, he bethought him of the man
whose power he was bidden to usurp. His own cousin, his father's
sister's son, in whose veins ran the same blood as in his own.
He raised his head at last, and met those anxious faces on which the
fitful light was casting harsh shadows. The pale ghost of a smile
hovered for a second on the corners of his stern mouth.
"I thank you, sirs, for the honour you have done me," he made answer
slowly, "an honour of which I fear I am all unworthy."
In strenuous chorus their voices rose to contradict him.
"At least, then, an honour which I cannot accept."
There was a moment's silence, and their faces from eager that they had
been, grew downcast to the point of sullenness.
"But why, my lord?" cried old Fabrizio at last, his arms outstretched
towards the Count, his voice quivering with intensity. "Santissima
Vergine! Why?"
"Because--to give you but one reason out of many--the man you ask me to
overthrow and supplant is of my own blood." And but that his tone was
calm they might have held that he rebuked them.
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