"Is it for you, Lord Count, to say whether your
cousin shall wed her or not?"
"Why, no. He may wed her if he will, but he will be a duke no longer.
In fact, he will be an outcast with no title to lay claim to, if indeed
the Babbianians will leave him a head at all; whilst I, at least, though
not a duke with a tottering throne, am a count with lands, small but
securely held, and shall become a duke if Gian Maria refuses to
relinquish me your niece. So that if he be disposed to marry her, will
you be disposed to let her marry a homeless vagrant or a headless
corpse?"
Guidobaldo's face seemed to change, and his eyes looked curiously at the
white-faced Duke beside him.
"So you are the other pretender to my niece's hand, Lord Count?" he
asked, in his coldest voice.
"I am, Highness," answered Francesco quietly. "The matter stands thus:
Unless Gian Maria is in Babbiano by morning, he forfeits his crown, and
it passes to me by the voice of the people; but if he will relinquish his
claim to Monna Valentina in my favour, then I shall journey straight to
Aquila, and I shall trouble Babbiano no more. If he refuses, and insists
upon this wedding, abhorrent to Monna Valentina, why, then, my men shall
hold him captive behind those walls until it be too late for him to reach
his duchy in time to save the crown. In the meantime I will ride to
Babbiano in his stead, and--reluctant though I be to play the duke--I
shall accept the throne and silence the people's importunities.
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