At that he cried out for
mercy, and came wading to the edge of the tank swearing that if the
immersion had not drowned him, it were a miracle but he was poisoned.
Thus closed an incident that had worn a mighty ugly look, and it served
to open Valentina's eyes to the true quality of the men Gonzaga had hired
her. Maybe that it opened his own for that amiable lute-thrummer was
green of experience in these matters. She bade Gonzaga care for
Francesco, and called one of the grinning pages from the gallery to be
his esquire. A room was placed at his disposal for the little time that
he might spend at Roccaleone, whilst she debated what her course should
be.
A bell tolled in the far southern wing of the castle, beyond the second
courtyard, and summoned her to chapel, for there Fra Domenico said Mass
each morning. And so she took her leave of Francesco, saying she would
pray Heaven to direct her to a wise choice, whether to fly from
Roccaleone, or whether to remain and ward off the onslaught of Gian
Maria.
Francesco, attended by Gonzaga and the page, repaired to a handsome room
under the Lion's Tower, which rose upon the south-eastern angle of the
fortress. His windows overlooked the second, or inner, courtyard, across
which Valentina and her ladies were now speeding on their way to Mass.
Gonzaga made shift to stifle the resentment that he felt against this
man, in whom he saw an interloper, and strove to treat him with the
courtesy that was his due.
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