"The hour is very ripe," he urged the Count, "and the people love you as
surely prince was never loved. It is in their interests that I plead.
You are their only hope. Will you not come to them?"
If for a moment Francesco hesitated, it was rather in consideration of
the manner in which the crown was offered than in consequence of any
allurement that the offer may have had for him. Once--that night at
Sant' Angelo--he had known temptation, and for a moment had listened to
the seductions in the voice that invited him to power. But not so now.
A thought he gave to the people who had such faith in him, and showered
upon him such admiring love, and whom, as a matter of reciprocity, he
wished well, and would have served in any capacity but this. He shook
his head, and with a smile of regret declined the offer.
"Have patience, old friend," he added. "I am not of the stuff that goes
to make good princes, although you think it. It is a bondage into which
I would not sell myself. A man's life for me, Fabrizio--a free life that
is not directed by councillors and at the mercy of the rabble."
Fabrizio's face grew sad. He sighed profoundly, yet since it might not
be well for him that he should remain over-long in talk with one who, in
the Duke's eyes, was attainted with treason, he had not leisure to insist
with persuasions, which, after all, he clearly saw must in the end prove
barren.
"What was the salvation of the people of Babbiano," he murmured, "was
also your Excellency's, since did you adopt the course I urge there would
be no need to go in banishment.
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