But she had
turned from him now, and was begging Francesco to make his meaning
clearer.
"Had he raised his hand against you, Madonna, or even against Messer
Gonzaga, or had he disobeyed an order given him by either of you, then,
and then only, could there be question of insubordination. But he has
done none of these things. He is guilty of grossly misusing my servant,
it is true, but there is no insubordination in that, since he was under
no promise of loyalty to Lanciotto."
They stared at him as though his words were words of recondite wisdom
instead of the simple statement of a plain case. Gonzaga crestfallen,
Fortemani with a light of hope and wonder shining in his eyes, and
Madonna with a faint nodding of the head that argued agreement. They
wrangled a while yet, Gonzaga bitter and vindictive and rashly scornful
of both Francesco and Fortemani. But the Count so resolutely held the
ground he had taken that in the end Valentina shrugged her shoulders,
acknowledged herself convinced, and bade Francesco deliver judgment.
"You are in earnest, Madonna?" quoth Francesco in surprise, whilst a
black scowl disfigured the serenity of Gonzaga's brow.
"I am indeed, Deal with him as you account best and most just, and it
shall fare with him precisely as you ordain."
Francesco turned to the men-at-arms. "Unbind him, one of you," he said
shortly.
"I believe that you are mad," cried Gonzaga, in a frenzy, but his mood
sprang rather from the chagrin of seeing his interloper prevail where he
had failed.
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