"
There followed a contention, conducted ill-humouredly on the part of
Gonzaga and scarcely less so on the Count's, Francesco stoutly refusing
to communicate his business to any but Valentina, and Gonzaga as stoutly
refusing to disturb the lady at that hour, or to lower the bridge. Words
flew between them across the waters of the moat, and grew hotter at each
fresh exchange, till in the end they were abruptly terminated by the
appearance of Valentina herself, attended by Peppino.
"What is this, Gonzaga?" she inquired, her manner excited, for the fool
had told her that it was the knight Francesco who sought admittance, and
at the very mention of the name she had flushed, then paled, then started
for the ramparts. "Why is this knight denied admittance since he bears a
message for me?" And from where she stood she sought with admiring eyes
the graceful shape of the Count of Aquila--the knight-errant of her
dreams. Francesco bared his head, and bent to the withers of his horse
in courteous greeting. She turned to Gonzaga impatiently.
"For what do you wait?" she cried. "Have you not understood my wishes?
Let the bridge be lowered."
"Bethink you, Madonna," he remonstrated. "You do not know this man. He
may be a spy of Gian Maria's--a hireling paid to betray us."
"You fool," she answered sharply. "Do you not see that it is the wounded
knight we met that day you were escorting me to Urbino?"
"What shall that signify?" demanded he. "Is it proof of his honesty of
purpose or loyalty to you? Be advised, Madonna, and let him deliver his
message from where he is.
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