"Here is no statesman needed, lord. It is a soldier Babbiano requires; a
martial spirit to organise an army against the invasion that must come--
that is coming already. In short, Lord Count, we need such a warrior as
are you. What man is there in all Italy--or, indeed, what woman or what
child--that has not heard of the prowess of the Lord of Aquila? Your
knightly deeds in the wars 'twixt Pisa and Florence, your feats of arms
and generalship in the service of the Venetians, are matters for the
making of epic song."

"Messer Fabrizio!" murmured Paolo, seeking to restrain his eulogistic
interlocutor, what time a faint tinge crept into his bronzed cheeks. But
Da Lodi continued, all unheeding:

"And shall you, my lord, who have borne yourself so valiantly as a
condottiero in the service of the stranger, hesitate to employ your skill
and valour against the enemies of your own homeland? Not so, Excellency.
We know the patriotic soul of Francesco del Falco, and we count upon it."

"And you do well," he answered firmly. "When the time comes you shall
find me ready. But until then, and touching such preparation as must be
made--why do you not address his Highness as you do me?"

A sad smile crossed the noble face of Lodi, whilst Ferrabraccio laughed
outright in chill contempt, and with characteristic roughness made
answer:

"Shall we speak to him," he cried, "of knightly deeds, of prowess, and of
valour? I would as lief enjoin Roderigo Borgia to fulfil the sacred
duties of his Vicarship; I might as profitably sprinkle incense on a
dunghill. What we could say to Gian Maria we have said, and since it had