Adventure, June 1911 — page 70: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

256 least a shred of dignity in her eyes by not thrusting myself into her presence whensshe had plainly shown me her contempt. And yet, even as I told myself this, I got to my feet and went slowly into the castle. There were voices in the room that opened from the gallery, and I paused at the door, still silently urging myself to play the man and remain apart. I could pass on un- noticed. Yet I stood there motionless, gaz- ing at the Princess, who sat by the window with the last light of the sun falling across her dark hair. She was thinking deeply, it appeared, for her face was turned away from O’Meara and Francesca. My heart beat more quickly as I looked at her. She was the loveliest woman in the world, I thought, and the farthest from me by birth and nature. Why was I standing there with my eyes glued to her face? It gave me no pleasure, only suffering, and I would do better to go see if my men were keeping their watch. “And so, glory be,” O’Meara con- cluded, with great enthusiasm, “‘we drove them flying before us into the back of. be- yant, and the day was ours—and all thanks to Sir John!” The Princess turned slowly toward him. “You think him a great man, this master of yours?”’ she asked, with some scorn in her voice. “Was it master you said, Princess?” O’Meara demanded, turning to her with ready good-fellowship, for he was equally at ease with a king or with a beggar. “No, you're wrong to use that word. There’s no man in all this broad beautiful earth of ours that can call himself master of an O’Meara. But if you mean the finest general that ever stepped, the rarest leader, the best friend and greatest soldier, why then, yes, I’m thinking he’s the greatest man I’ve ever known or ever will know!” I had dragged myself a few paces from the door, repeating again and again that I must not enter. Francesca’s pretty voice came to me faintly as she broke in. “At first I hated your captain,” she told him, “‘but now there are times when I think he does not appear altogether evil. He has the look of one who suffers for his sins——” “You are mad, child!”’ cried the Princess. “Think of the tales they tell of him in Verona—a ruffian, a cut-throat, drinking in taverns, quarreling in the streets, swearing and, buffeting, ruling his men by terror!” Adventure She broke off as if in utter distaste for my many crimes. My hesitation was at an end. Come what might of it, I would see her and talk with her, though heaven knew what I could say, for her charges were all true enough, and I had no intention of denying them. “That’s as unjust a speech as ever you uttered, Madonna!” cried my faithful com- rade. “You've heard these tales from Court fops, [ll swear—jackdaws not fit to touch Sir John’s shoes! Let them once try to equal what he’s done and they’ll change their tune! ’Tis blithe I’d be to set them in the midst of a bloody battle, with the odds all against them and the day well-nigh lost, and then see if they’d be after knowing the way to bring order from slaughter and victory from despair, as I’ve seen Sir John do more times than I ceuld count——” “There, Michael, you have chanted my praises enough,” I said, and they started as I strode across the room. “TI have just come from the battlements, where the evening breeze is very soft and sweet. Madonna Francesca, I am sure, would enjoy it greatly if you took her there to walk.” Francesca, I thought, felt no great dis- taste for the proposal, but she evidently con- sidered it due herself to crush me for my presumption. ‘‘I will go if the Princess de- sires me to leave her, and not otherwise, Sir - John,” she answered saucily, with a fling of her head. Madonna Giulia folded her hands in her lap and assumed a look of proud endurance. “Have you not learned yet, child,” she asked, “‘that Sir John Hawkwood is the master here, and that we needs must do as he wills? What matter whether I desire you to go or stay, if he bids you go?” “You wrong me, Princess,” I said, looking at her straightly. ‘“‘Do me the justice to admit that I have not once entered your presence save when you have sent to bid me come. If you desire it, I will leave you now —you are the mistress, and may command.” “T had not guessed it!’ she retorted, “But there, what matter? Go, Francesca, and I will stay to hear what our jailer de- sires to tell me.’ FRANCESCA went out readily enough, O’Meara following her in | unmistakable rapture at the pros- pect of an interview in which to urge his suit. The Princess and I kept silence for a COmiclboooks (C@