They grew zestful in the reflection of
his zest, and out of admiration for him they came to admire the business
on which they were engaged, and, finally, to take a pride in the part he
assigned to each of them. Within an hour there was such diligent bustle
in Roccaleone, such an air of grim gaiety and high spirits, that
Valentina, observing it, wondered what manner of magician was this she
had raised to the command of her fortress, who in so little time could
work so marvellous a change in the demeanour of her garrison.
Once only did Francesco's light-heartedness fail him, and this was when,
upon visiting the armoury, he found but one single cask of gunpowder
stored there. He turned to Fortemani to inquire where Gonzaga had
bestowed it, and Fortemani being as ignorant as himself upon the subject
he went forthwith in quest of Gonzaga. After ransacking the castle for
him, he found him pacing the vine-alley in the garden in animated
conversation with Valentina. At his approach the courtier's manner grew
more subdued, and his brows sullen.
"Messer Gonzaga," Francesco hailed him. The courtier, surprised, looked
up. "Where have you hidden your store of powder?"
"Powder?" faltered Gonzaga, chilled by a sudden apprehension. "Is there
none in the armoury?"
"Yes--one small cask, enough to load a cannon once or twice, leaving us
nothing for our hand-guns. Is that your store?"
"If that is all there is in the armoury, that is all we have."
Franceseo stood speechless, staring at him, a dull flush creeping into
his cheeks.
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