"
The Duke sank back in his chair to gape at his impetuous cousin. Then,
in sullen anger: "To whom do you speak?" he demanded.
"To a tyrant who calls himself the most clement, just and generous prince
in Italy, and who lacks the wisdom to see that he is undermining with his
own hands, and by his own rash actions, a throne that is already
tottering. Can you not think that this might mean a revolution? It
amounts to murder, and though dukes resort to it freely enough in Italy,
it is not openly and defiantly wrought, as is this."
Anger there was in the Duke's soul, but there was still more fear--so
much, that it shouldered the anger aside.
"I have provided against rebellion," he announced, with an ease that he
vainly strove to feel. "I have given the command of my guards to Martino
Armstadt, and he has engaged for me a company of five hundred Swiss
lanzknechte that were lately in the pay of the Baglioni of Perugia."
"And you deem this security?" rejoined Francesco, with a smile of scorn.
"To hedge your throne with foreign spears commanded by a foreigner?"
"This and God's grace," was the pious answer.
"Bah!" answered Francesco, impatient at the hypocrisy. "Win the hearts
of your people. Let that be your buckler."
"Hush!" whispered Gian Maria. "You blaspheme. Does not every act of my
self-sacrificing life point to such an aim? I live for my people. But,
by my soul, they ask too much when they ask that I should die for them.
If I serve those who plot against my life, as I have served these men you
speak of, who shall blame me? I tell you, Francesco, I wish I might have
those others who escaped, that I might do as much by them.
Pages:
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63