In that hour those old grey walls of Roccaleone seemed to enclose for her a very paradise, and the snatch of an old love song stole softly from her parted lips.

But like a paradise--alas!--it had its snake that crept up unheard behind her, and was presently hissing in her ear.

And its voice was the voice of Romeo Gonzaga.
"It comforts me, Madonna, that there is one, at least, in Roccaleone has the heart to sing." Startled out of her happy pensiveness by that smooth and now unutterably sinister voice, she turned to face its owner.
She saw the white gleam of his face and something of the anger that smouldered in his eye, and despite herself a thrill of alarm ran through her like a shudder.

She looked beyond him to a spot where lately she had seen the sentry.

There was no one there nor anywhere upon that wall.
They were alone, and Messer Gonzaga looked singularly evil.
For a moment there was a tense silence, broken only by the tumbling waters of the torrent-moat and the hoarse challenge of a sentry's "Chi va la ?" in Gian Maria's camp.