"As I believe the men of Roccaleone are in your service, I call upon you to bid them throw down that drawbridge, and in the name of Guidobaldo as well as my own, I promise them free pardon and no hurt--saving only that rascal at your side.

But if your knaves resist me, I promise you that when I shall have dashed Roccaleone stone from stone, not a man of you all will I spare." Shaking like an aspen Gonzaga stood there, his voice palsied and making no reply, whereupon Francesco leant forward again.
"We have heard your terms," he answered, "and we are not like to heed them.

Waste not the day in vain threats." "Sir, my terms were not for you.

I know you not; I addressed you not, nor will I suffer myself to be addressed by you." "Linger there another moment," answered the vibrating voice of the knight, "and you will find yourself addressed with a volley of arquebuse-shot.

Ola, there!" he commanded, turning and addressing an imaginary body of men on the lower ramparts of the garden, to his left.
"Arquebusiers to the postern! Blow your matches! Make ready! Now, my Lord Duke, will you draw off, or must we blow you off ?" The Duke's reply took the form of a bunch of blasphemous threats of how he would serve his interlocutor when he came to set hands on him.
"Present arms!" roared the knight to his imaginary arquebusiers, whereupon, without another word, the Duke turned his horse and rode off in disgraceful haste, his trumpeter following hot upon his heels, pursued by a derisive burst of laughter from Francesco..