“I care not for the League,” rejoined Bourbon. “But I will save you on one condition. I know you have a large sum of money concealed------” “I swear to your highness that you are mistaken,” interrupted Moroni. “I have been despoiled of all my treasures by Pescara.” “I know better,” said Bourbon. “You have a secret hoard. Pay me thirty thousand ducats, and you shall be set free. Otherwise, your head will fall on the block.” “Thirty thousand ducats! Impossible, highness! Where am I to get that sum?” “That is best known to yourself. I will give you two days to find the money. On the morning of the third day, if it be not forthcoming, you will die.” “I pray your highness to consider that compliance with the demand is impossible.” “I make no demand,” said Bourbon. “I offer your life on very easy terms.” And he quitted the cell. As Moroni remained obstinate, in order to intimidate him still further, Bourbon caused a large scaffold to be reared in the court of the castle, in sight of the windows of his prison-chamber. These dismal preparations were not without effect. Believing that Bourbon would really execute his threat, Moroni sent for him, and delivered him the money. “Ha! I felt certain you could procure it,” cried Bourbon, as he took the bags of gold. “This money will enable me to march to Rome.” On his return to Milan, Bourbon assembled his army, and after distributing the money among them, he thus harangued them: “Valiant captains and brave soldiers!--The time has now arrived when I must acquaint you with my secret intentions. Ere long, I hope to enrich you all by the sack of Rome--to deliver to you its nobles, its senators, its prelates, with all their wealth. You shall have the whole consistory of cardinals to deal with as you list--nay, Pope Clement himself who has excommunicated us all, and who so unworthily fills the chair of Saint Peter.” This address was received with enthusiastic acclamations. The captains drew their swords, and the men brandished their halberds, or shook their arquebusses above their heads, and a universal shout arose of “To Rome!--to Rome!” “I will not deceive you, my brave companions,” pursued Bourbon, as soon as the clamour ceased. “I have nothing more to give you. I am a poor knight--poor as yourselves. But as I have told you, we shall all become rich at Rome. Let us march thither at once. The Baron von Frundsberg and his lanz-knechts are waiting for us near Piacenza. Let us join them without delay, or they may go on and reach Rome before us.” “We are ready to march at once,” cried a thousand voices. “To Rome!--to Rome! Vive Bourbon!” Bourbon did not allow their enthusiasm to cool, but put them in order of march at once, using so much expedition, that late in the following day he had effected a junction with Von Frundsberg.