If, then, for a little while they could
hold him in check, all would yet be well. Surely he had been over-quick
to despond.
He rose and stretched himself with indolent relish, then pushing wide his
casement, he leaned out to breathe the morning air. A soft laugh escaped
him. He had been a fool indeed to plague himself with fears when he had
first heard of Gian Maria's coming. Properly viewed, it became a service
Gian Maria did him--whether they remained, or whether they went. Love
has no stronger promoter than a danger shared, and a week of such
disturbances as Gian Maria was likely to occasion them should do more to
advance his suit than he might hope to achieve in a whole month of
peaceful wooing. Then the memory of Francesco set a wrinkle 'twixt his
brows, and he bethought him how taken Valentina had been with the fellow
when first she had beheld him at Acquasparta, and of how, as she rode
that day, she had seen naught but the dark eyes of this Knight Francesco.
"Knight Francesco of what or where?" he muttered to himself. "Bah! A
nameless, homeless adventurer; a swashbuckling bully, reeking of blood
and leather, and fit to drive such a pack as Fortemani's. But with a
lady--what shalt such an oaf attain, how shall he prevail?" He laughed
the incipient jealousy to scorn, and his brow grew clear, for now he was
in an optimistic mood--perhaps a reaction from his recent tremors. "Yet,
by the Host!" he pursued, bethinking him of the amazing boldness
Francesco had shown in the courtyard, "he has the strength of Hercules,
and a way with him that makes him feared and obeyed.
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