"Indeed, your Highness's action in the matter leaves no doubt.

We will accept, then, that such a plot was laid, but that I had a part in it, that I was the man chosen to take your place--need I prove the idleness of such a charge ?" "You need, in truth.

By God! you need, if you would save your head." The Count stood in an easy posture, his hands clasped behind his back, and smiled up at his cousin's pale face and scowling brow.
"How mysterious are the ways of your justice, Cousin," he murmured, with infinite relish; "what a wondrous equity invests your methods! You have me dragged here by force, and sitting there, you say to me: 'Prove that you have not conspired against me, or the headsman shall have you!' By my faith! Soloman was a foolish prattler when compared with you." Gian Maria smote the gilded arm of his chair a blow for which he was to find his hand blackened on the morrow.
"Prove it!" he screamed, like a child in a pet.

"Prove it, prove it, prove it!" "And have my words not already proven it ?" quoth the Count, in a voice of such mild wonder and gentle protest that it left Gian Maria gasping.
Then the Duke made a hasty gesture of impatience.
"Messer Alvari," he said, in a voice of concentrated rage, "I think you had best recall the guard." "Wait!" the Count compelled him, raising his hand.

And now it was seen that the easy insouciance was gone from his face: the smile had vanished, and in its place there was a look of lofty and contemptuous wrath.