He went
white with fear and he leant against the low wall to steady the tell-tale
trembling that had seized him. Then Francesco's voice, scornful and
confident, floated up to his ears. "I ask you, my friends, would his
Highness of Babbiano be disposed to the payment of a thousand gold
florins if by bombardment he thought to break a way into Roccaleone?
This letter was written yesterday. Since then we have made a brave
display of cannon ourselves; and if yesterday he dared not fire, think
you he will to-day? But here, assure yourselves, if there is one amongst
you that can read."
He held out the letter to them. Cappoccio took it, and calling one
Aventano, he held it out in his turn. This Aventano, a youth who had
been partly educated for the Church, but had fallen from that lofty
purpose, now stood forward and took the letter. He scrutinised it, read
it aloud, and pronounced it genuine.
"Whom is it addressed to?" demanded Cappoccio.
"Nay, nay!" cried Francesco. "What need for that?"
"Let be," Cappoccio answered, almost fiercely. "If you would have us
remain in Roccaleone, let be. Aventano, tell me."
"To Messer Romeo Gonzaga," answered the youth, in a voice of wonder.
So evil a light leapt to Cappoccio's eye that Francesco carried his free
hand to the sword which he had lowered. But Cappoccio only looked up at
Gonzaga, and grinned malevolently. It had penetrated his dull wits that
he had been the tool of a judas, who sought to sell the castle for a
thousand florins.
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