"If you will honour me with the office, Madonna, I shall serve you
loyally whilst I have life."

A smile quivered for a second on her lips, but was gone ere the courtier
had straightened himself from his bow, for far was it from her wishes to
wound his spirit. But the notion of this scented fop in the role of
captain, ruling a handful of rough mercenaries, and directing the
operations for the resistance of an assiduous siege, touched her with its
ludicrous note. Yet, if she refused him this, it was more than likely he
would deem himself offended, and refuse to advance their plans. It
crossed her mind--in the full confidence of youth--that if he should fail
her when the hour of action came, she was of stout enough heart to aid
herself. And so she consented, whereat again he bowed, this time in
gratitude. And then a sudden thought occurred to her, and with it came
dismay.

"But for all this, Gonzaga--for the men and the victualling--money will
be needed."

"If you will let my friendship be proven also in that----" he began.

But she interrupted him, struck suddenly with a solution to the riddle.

"No, no!" she exclaimed. His face fell a little. He had hoped to place
her in his debt in every possible way, yet here was one in which she
raised a barrier. Upon her head she wore a fret of gold, so richly laced
with pearls as to be worth a prince's ransom. This she now made haste to
unfasten with fingers that excitement set a-tremble. "There!" she cried,
holding it out to him. "Turn that to money, my friend. It should yield
you ducats enough for this enterprise."