'Can you entertain a doubt upon that, Lord Prince?' Bellarion was smiling. Their hands came away together from the bell, and fell apart. 'Her disposition towards your potency is, to my knowledge, of the very kindliest. Such, indeed, that--I'll be frank with you--I found it necessary once to remind her of her duty to her lord.' 'Ah!' The fat pale face quivered into something akin to malevolence. The Prince remembered a sudden coolness in the Countess and her removal to Melegnano, and perceived in this meddler's confession the explanation of it. 'By Saint Ambrose, that was bold of you!' 'I am accounted bold,' Bellarion reminded him, deeming it necessary. 'Aye, aye!' The shifty eyes fell away uncomfortably under his glance. 'But if she is kindly disposed, then ...' 'I know that she was, highness, and may be rendered so again. Though perhaps less easily now than heretofore.' 'Less easily? Why so?' 'As Facino's widow, she is in wealth and power the equal of many a prince in Italy. She has considerable dominions ...' 'Torn by Facino from the great heritage left by the Duke my father.' In that rare burst of indignation his whole bulk quivered like a great jelly. 'They might be restored to the ducal crown by peaceful arts.' 'Peaceful arts? What arts? Will you be plain?' But the time for direct answers was not yet. 'And not only has the Countess lands, but the control of a vast fortune. Some four hundred thousand ducats. You will need money, highness, for the pay of this great army now under Bergamo, and your own treasury will hardly supply it. There is taxation. But your highness knows the ills that wait on that for a prince newly come into his own. And not only the lands and money of which your highness stands in need, but the men also does the Countess bring.' 'You but repeat yourself.' Bellarion looked at him, and smiled. Never, do I believe, did a Prince find a bride more richly dowered.' 'A bride?' The youth was startled, terrified almost. 'A bride?' 'Would less content your highness? Would you be satisfied to receive the assistance of the Countess's possessions, when you may make them your own and wield them at your pleasure?' He stared, his jaw fallen. Then slowly he brought his lips together again, and licked them thoughtfully, screwing up his mean eyes. 'You are proposing that I should take to wife Facino's widow, who is twice my age?' He asked the question very slowly, as if pondering each word of it. Bellarion laughed. 'Not proposing it, highness. It is not for me to make such proposals. I do not even know what the lady will say. But if she is willing to become Duchess of Milan, she can provide the means to make you Duke.' Filippo Maria sat down suddenly. The sweat broke from his pale brow. He mopped it with his hand, disturbing the black fringe that disfigured it. Then, lost in thought, he stroked the loose folds of his enormous chin, and gradually his eyes kindled.