As we were ambling by a forest path, Galeotto abruptly turned to me,
Falcone at the time being some little way in advance of us, and startled me
by his words.
"Cavalcanti's daughter seemed to move you strangely, Agostino," he said,
and watched me turn pale under his keen glance.
In my confusion--more or less at random--"What should Cavalcanti's daughter
be to me?" I asked.
"Why, what you will, I think," he answered, taking my question literally.
"Cavalcanti would consider the Lord of Mondolfo and Carmina a suitable mate
for his daughter, however he might hesitate to marry her to the landless
Agostino d'Anguissola. He loved your father better than any man that ever
lived, and such an alliance was mutually desired."
"Do you think I need this added spur?" quoth I.
"Nay, I know that you do not. But it is well to know what reward may wait
upon our labour. It makes that labour lighter and increases courage."
I hung my head, without answering him, and we rode silently amain.
He had touched me where the flesh was raw and tender. Bianca de'
Cavalcanti! It was a name I uttered like a prayer, like a holy invocation.
Just so had I been in a measure content to carry that name and the memory
of her sweet face. To consider her as the possible Lady of Mondolfo when I
should once more have come into my own, was to consider things that filled
me almost with despair.
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