But his men had
seen enough of the Count's methods, and made no advance upon that
stalwart, dauntless figure that stood waiting for them with a whip which
several had already tasted. Huddled together, more like a flock of
frightened sheep than a body of men of war, they stood near the entrance
tower, the mock of Peppe, who from the stone-gallery above--much to the
amusement of Valentina's ladies and two pert pages that were with him--
applauded in high-flown terms their wondrous valour.
They stirred at last, but it was at Valentina's bidding. She had been
conferring with Gonzaga, who--giving it for his reason that she, herself,
might need protection--had remained beside her, well out of the fray.
She had been urging him to do something, and at last he had obeyed her,
and moved down the short flight of steps into the court; but so
reluctantly and slowly, that with an exclamation of impatience, she
suddenly brushed past him, herself to do the task she had begged of him.
Past Francesco she went, with a word of such commendation of his valour
and a look of such deep admiration, that the blood sprang, responsive, to
his cheek. She paused with a solicitous inquiry for the now risen but
sorely bruised Lanciotto. She flashed an angry look and an angry command
of silence at the great Ercole, still bellowing from his tank, and then,
within ten paces of his followers, she halted, and with wrathful mien,
and hand outstretched towards their captain, she bade them arrest him.
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