“Cardinale di Forli,” I broke in, “grant me no favors, save as you would grant them to your mortal enemy. I will not waste tongue and breath on oaths, swearing that I will neither go to Italy nor stay in Italy save as a close prisoner. You think you know me, and of a surety I know you. Therefore our relations are simpler. Yet answer if you will one thing--am I here because Marianna will not see me escape her meshes, or because I have befriended Luther? Why should the Emperor order my arrest, even at the bidding of a Papal Legate?” I could see Forli was not glad to have me press the question. His eyes moved shiftily. “I cannot answer you now, Gualtiero. Perhaps there was a mixture of motive. You shall see what you shall see.” “I thank you, Eminenza,” said I, with a sarcastic shrug, “for your enlightening answer.” Evidently he saw our conversation was leading nowhere, and he moved backward to the door, nor did I make effort to detain him. “Addio,” spoke he, going out, “till to-morrow. I will report your gracious speeches to Marianna.” The waiting jailor flung open for him, the door closed behind him, and the bolts rattled back. The room was already darkening with the advancing twilight. I was alone with the four gray walls and my hard pallet. Long, long I sat with my head on my hands, trying to solve the riddle of Forli’s schemes and of my own fate. That the Cardinal and Marianna should seek my mischief was likely enough; but why the Emperor, who might strike more open blows, should condescend to this dagger-thrust, was beyond my guessing. Surely, Charles had hitherto seemed an honorable foe,--a lion, not a jackal.