It is growing late."
He bowed low before her, obedient ever, like the true knight he was, and
took his leave of her, his soul on fire.
Valentina watched his retreating figure until it had vanished round the
angle of the wall. Then with a profound sigh, that was as a prayer of
thanksgiving for this great good that had come into her life, she leaned
upon the parapet and looked out into the darkness, her cheeks flushed,
her heart still beating high. She laughed softly to herself out of the
pure happiness of her mood. The camp of Gian Maria became a subject for
her scorn. What should his might avail whilst she had such a champion to
defend her now and hereafter?
There was an irony in that siege on which her fancy fastened. By coming
thus in arms against her Gian Maria sought to win her for his wife; yet
all that he had accomplished was to place her in the arms of the one man
whom she had learnt to love by virtue of this very siege. The mellow
warmth of the night, the ambient perfume of the fields were well-sorted
to her mood, and the faint breeze that breathed caressingly upon her
cheek seemed to re-echo the melodies her heart was giving forth. In that
hour those old grey walls of Roccaleone seemed to enclose for her a very
paradise, and the snatch of an old love song stole softly from her parted
lips. But like a paradise--alas!--it had its snake that crept up unheard
behind her, and was presently hissing in her ear. And its voice was the
voice of Romeo Gonzaga.
Pages:
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269