"I should prefer to deliver it in more privacy than this." And his eye
travelled round the court and up the steps behind, where was now
collected the entire company of Fortemani. Gonzaga sneered and tossed
his golden curls, but Valentina saw naught unreasonable in the request,
and bidding Romeo attend her and Francesco follow, she led the way.
They crossed the quadrangle, and, mounting the steps down which Fortemani
had dashed to meet the Count, they passed into the banqueting-hall, which
opened directly upon the south side of the courtyard. The Count,
following in her wake, ran the gauntlet of scowls of the assembled
mercenaries. He stalked past them unmoved, taking their measure as he
went, and estimating their true value with the unerring eye of the
practised condottiero who has had to do with the enrolling of men and the
handling of them. So little did he like their looks that on the
threshold of the hall he paused and stayed Gonzaga.
"I am loath to leave my servant at the mercy of those ruffians, sir. May
I beg that you will warn them against offering him violence?"
"Ruffians?" cried the lady angrily, before Gonzaga could offer a reply.
"They are my soldiers."
Again he bowed, and there was a cold politeness in the tones in which he
answered her:
"I crave your pardon, and I will say no more--unless it be to deplore
that I may not felicitate you on your choice."
It was Gonzaga's turn to wax angry, for the choice had been his.
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