"Upon your body, then--God helping me," he said.
Unable longer to control myself, I sprang to my father's side. I caught
his arm.
"Let me! Father, let me!
He looked into my face and smiled, and the steel-coloured eyes seemed moist
and singularly soft.
"My son!" he said, and his voice was gentle and soothing as a woman's
caress.
"My father!" I answered him, a knot in my throat.
"Alas, that I must deny you the first thing you ask me by that name," he
said. "But the challenge is given and accepted. Do you take Bianca to the
Duomo and pray that right may be done and God's will prevail. Gervasio
shall go with you."
And then came an interruption from Gonzaga.
"My lord," he said, "will you determine when and where this battle is to be
fought?"
"Upon the instant," answered my father, "on the banks of Po with a score of
lances to keep the lists."
Gonzaga looked at Cosimo. "Do you agree to this?"
"It cannot be too soon for me," replied the quivering Cosimo, black hatred
in his glance.
"Be it so, then," said the Governor, and he rose, the Court rising with
him.
My father pressed my hand again. "To the Duomo, Agostino, till I come," he
said, and on that we parted.
My sword was returned to me by Gonzaga's orders. In so far as it concerned
myself the trial was at an end, and I was free.
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