"Do you know me, then, so little, Gian Maria," said he, not without
bitterness, "that you think I hunger for so empty a thing as this ducal
pomp you clutch so fearfully? I tell you, man, that I prefer my liberty
to an imperial throne. But I waste breath with you. Yet, some day, when
your crown shall have passed from you and your power have been engulfed
in the Borgia's rapacious maw, remember my offer which might have saved
you and which with insults you disregarded, as you disregarded the advice
your older counsellors gave you."

Gian Maria shrugged his fat shoulders.

"If by that other advice you mean the counsel that I should take
Guidobaldo's niece to wife, you may give ease unto your patriotic soul.
I have consented to enter into this alliance. And now," he ended, with
another of his infernal chuckles, "you see how little I need dread this
terrible son of Pope Alexander. Allied with Urbino and the other States
that are its friends, I can defy the might of Caesar Borgia. I shall
sleep tranquil of nights beside my beauteous bride, secure in the
protection her uncle's armies will afford me, and never needing so much
as my valiant cousin's aid as my gonfalonier."

The Count of Aquila changed colour despite himself, and the Duke's
suspicious eyes were as quick to observe it as was his mind to
misinterpret its meaning. He registered a vow to set a watch on this
solicitous cousin who offered so readily to bear his gonfalon.

"I felicitate you, at least," said Francesco gravely, "upon the wisdom of
that step. Had I known of it I had not troubled you with other proposals
for the safety of your State. But, may I ask you, Gian Maria, what