"So far, Excellency," he continued, "you cannot be in ignorance of the
general dissatisfaction prevailing among our most illustrious cousin's
subjects. There was the conspiracy of Bacolino, a year ago, which, had
it succeeded, would have cast us into the hands of Florence. It failed,
but another such might not fail again. The increased disfavour of his
Highness may bring more adherents to a fresh conspiracy of this
character, and we should be lost as an independent state. And the peril
that menaces us is the peril of being so loSt. Not only by defection of
our own, but by the force of arms of another. That other is Caesar
Borgia. His dominion is spreading like a plague upon the face of this
Italy, which he has threatened to eat up like an artichoke--leaf by leaf.
Already his greedy eyes are turned upon us, and what power have we--all
unready as we are--wherewith successfully to oppose the overwhelming
might of the Duke of Valentinois? All this his Highness realises, for we
have made it more than clear to him, as we have, too, made clear the
remedy. Yet does he seem as indifferent to his danger as to his
salvation. His time is spent in orgies, in dancing, in hawking and in
shameful dalliance, and if we dare throw out a word of warning, threats
and curses are the only answer we receive."

Da Lodi paused, as if growing conscious that his manner was becoming
over-vehement. But of this, his companions, at least, were all
unconscious, for they filled the pause with a murmur of angry
confirmation. Francesco wrinkled his brow, and sighed.

"I am--alas!--most fully conscious of this danger you speak of. But--
what do you expect of me? Why bear me your grievance? I am no
statesman."