Fortemani bowed low, his face pale and his limbs trembling as not even
fear had made them tremble. He advanced towards Valentina, and sinking
on one knee, he humbly kissed the hem of her gown.
"Your clemency, Madonna, shall give you no regret. I will serve you to
the death, lady, and you, lord." At the last words he raised his eyes to
Francesco's calm face. Then, without so much as a glance at the
disappointed Gonzaga, he rose, and bowing again--a very courtier--he
withdrew.
The closing of the door was to Gonzaga a signal to break out in a torrent
of bitter reproofs against Francesco, reproofs that were stemmed midway
by Valentina.
"You are beside yourself, Gonzaga," she exclaimed. "What has been done,
has been done with my sanction. I do not doubt the wisdom of it."
"Do you not? God send you never may! But that man will know no peace
until he is avenged on us."
"Messer Gonzaga," returned Francesco, with an incomparable politeness, "I
am an older man than are you, and maybe that I have seen more warring and
more of such men. There is a certain valour lurks in that bully for all
his blustering boastfulness and swagger, and there is, too, a certain
sense of justice. Mercy he has had to-day, and time will show how right
I am in having pardoned him in Madonna's name. I tell you, sir, that
nowhere has Monna Valentina a more faithful servant than he is now likely
to become."
"I believe you, Messer Francesco. Indeed, I am sure your act was wisdom
itself.
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