The act of yours may be a madness, Madonna, but it is
the bravest, sweetest madness that ever was, and I shall be proud to play
my part if you'll assign me one."
"But, sir, I have no claim upon you!"
"The claim that every beset lady has upon a true knight," he assured her.
"I could ask no better employment for these arms of mine than in your
defence against the Duke of Babbiano. I am at your service, and with a
glad heart, Monna Valentina. I have seem something of war, and you may
find me useful."
"Make him Provost of Roccaleone, Madonna," urged Fortemani, whose
gratitude to the man who had saved his life was blent with an admiring
appreciation of his powers, of which the bully had had such practical
experience.
"You hear what Ercole says?" she cried, turning to Francesco with a
sudden eagerness that showed how welcome that suggestion was.
"It were too great an honour," he answered solemnly. "Yet, if you were
to place in my hands that trust, I would defend it to my last breath."
And then, before she could answer him, Gonzaga entered by the side-door,
and frowned to see Francesco there before him. He was a trifle pale, he
carried his cloak on the right shoulder, instead of the left, and in
general his apparel was less meticulous than usual, and showed signs of
hasty donning. With a curt nod to the Count, and an utter ignoring of
Fortemani--who was scowling upon him in memory of yesterday--he bowed low
before Valentina.
"I am distraught, Madonna----" he began, when she cut him short.
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