Now during that pause his mind had been very busy. Something of a poet,
he was blessed with wits of a certain quickness, and was a man of very
ready fancy. Like an inspiration an idea had come to him; out of this
had sprung another, and yet another, until a chain of events by which the
frustration of the schemes of Babbiano and Urbino might be accomplished,
was complete.
"I think," he said slowly, his eyes upon the ground, "that I know a way."
Her glance was now eager, her lip tremulous, and her face a little pale.
She leant towards him.
"Tell me," she besought him feverishly.
He set his lute on the seat beside him, and his eyes looked round in
apprehensive survey.
"Not here," he muttered. "There are too many ears in the Palace of
Urbino. Will it please you to walk in the gardens? I will tell you
there."
They rose together, so ready was her assent. They looked at each other
for a second. Then, side by side, they passed down the wide marble steps
that led from the terrace to the box-flanked walks of the gardens. Here,
among the lengthening shadows, they paced in silence for a while, what
time Gonzaga sought for words in which to propound his plan. At length,
grown impatient, Valentina urged him with a question.
"What I counsel, Madonna," he answered her, "is open defiance."
"Such a course I am already pursuing. But whither will it lead me?"
"I do not mean the mere defiance of words--mere protestations that you
will not wed Gian Maria.
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