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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"Love-at-Arms"


"I know of many," he answered, with a smile, an answer which by its
simplicity seemed to nonplus the Duke.
"Let us hear some of them," he challenged presently.
"Nay, let us hear, rather, some reason why my poor head should be so
harshly dealt with. When a man is rudely taken, as I have been, it is a
custom, which perhaps your Highness will follow, to afford him some
reason for the outrage."
"You smooth-tongued traitor," quoth the Duke, with infinite malice, made
angrier by his cousin's dignity. "You choicely-spoken villain! You
would learn why you have been taken? Tell me, sir, what did you at
Acquasparta on the morning of the Wednesday before Easter?"
The Count's impassive face remained inscrutable, a mask of patient
wonder. By the sudden clenching of his hands alone did he betray how
that thrust had smitten him, and his hands none there remarked. Fabrizio
da Lodi, standing behind the Duke, went pale to the lips.
"I do not recall that I did anything there of much account," he answered.
"I breathed the good spring air in the woods."
"And nothing else?" sneered Gian Maria.
"I can bethink me of little else that signifies. I met a lady there with
whom I had some talk, a friar, a fool, a popinjay, and some soldiers.
But,"--he shifted abruptly, his tone growing haughty--"whatever I did, I
did as best seemed to me, and I have yet to learn that the Count of
Aquila must give account of what he does and where he does it. You have
not told me yet, sir, by what right, or fancied right, you hold me
prisoner.


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