This man had robbed him at once of the love of his people and of
Valentina, and thereby had set in his heart the burning desire to outdo
him and to prove wrong in their preference both his people and Valentina.
He was like a gamer who risks all on a single throw, and his stake was to
be the dowry of his bride, the game a tilt with the forces of the Borgia.
If he won he came out covered with glory, and not only the saviour of his
people and the champion of their liberty, but a glorious figure that all
Italy--or, at least, that part of it that had known the iron heel of
Valentino--should revere. Thus would he set himself right, and thus
crush from their minds the memory of his rebellious cousin with whom he
was about to deal.
His mother turned to him now, and her words were words of caution,
prayers that he should adventure on naught so vast and appalling to her
woman's mind, without due thought and argument in council. A servant
entered at that moment, and approached the Duke.
"Madonna," Gian Maria announced, breaking in upon her earnest words, "I
am fully resolved upon my course. If you will but delay a moment and
resume your seat, you shall witness the first scene of this great drama
that I am preparing." Then turning to the waiting servant: "Your
message?" he demanded.
"Captain Armstadt has returned, Highness, and has brought his
Excellency."
"Fetch lights and then admit them," he commanded briefly. "To your
places, sirs, and you, my mother.
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