At last she turned to him.
"Could you---- ?" she began, and stopped, her eyes wandering back to Gonzaga, loath to further wound a pride that was very sore already.

On the instant Francesco rose.
"I might try, Madonna," he said quietly, "although Messer Gonzaga's failure gives me little hope.

And yet, it may be that he has taken the keen edge from their assurance, and that, thus, an easier task awaits me.

I will try, Madonna." And with that he went.
"He will succeed, Gonzaga," she said, after he had gone.

"He is a man of war, and knows the words to which these fellows have no answer." "I wish him well of his errand," sneered Gonzaga, his pretty face white now with sullenness.