The voice was the voice that had acclaimed his cousin Francesco Duke.

That it was through that a fierce jealousy had fired him.

This man had robbed him at once of the love of his people and of Valentina, and thereby had set in his heart the burning desire to outdo him and to prove wrong in their preference both his people and Valentina.

He was like a gamer who risks all on a single throw, and his stake was to be the dowry of his bride, the game a tilt with the forces of the Borgia.

If he won he came out covered with glory, and not only the saviour of his people and the champion of their liberty, but a glorious figure that all Italy--or, at least, that part of it that had known the iron heel of Valentino--should revere.