"Was last night not a victory?" the cardinal asked in a choked voice. "Do you know the difference between winning a battle and winning a war?" "What more can the French do?" said Ugolini. "We must talk about that," said Daoud. "Even though, in spite of this good kaviyeh, my body screams for rest." He drained the cup, put it down, and stretched his arms. With difficulty he brought his anger under control. He must win Ugolini, not turn him into an enemy. Ugolini had sat down in the high-backed chair behind his work table. His slender fingers restlessly polished the dome of the skull with the diagram painted on its cranium that lay before him. He looked as gloomy as if he were contemplating the day when he himself would be reduced to bones. Lorenzo quietly got up and poured himself another cup of kaviyeh. Daoud turned to Sophia. "How do you think de Gobignon feels toward you?" He hated to ask the question. He watched her face closely. What he really wanted to know was how _she_ felt about de Gobignon. Her eyes were heavy-lidded. Even with Hashishiyya-trained senses, he could not guess what was behind that damnably unrevealing mask. "I think I persuaded him that the cardinal's niece neither knows nor cares anything about alliances and crusades. I--believe he could come to love me." Rage throbbed in his temples. What, in his sheltered existence, could the young count have learned of love? "Love you? Unlikely," Daoud challenged her. He saw with quick regret that he had hurt her feelings. She recoiled as if struck. "Do you not think me worthy of a nobleman's love?" Daoud crossed the room in three quick steps and stood over her. "Such pampered creatures as he are not capable of love." The mask was back. She shrugged. "Love or lust, he is drawn to me. Do you mean to make some use of it?" "Send him a note by one of the cardinal's servants asking him to meet with you in a few days' time." Daoud turned and walked to the celestial globe beside Ugolini's table and spun it absently as he studied Sophia. "Let him pick the place, so he feels secure." Again he had a glimpse through the mask. Her eyes widened in fear. She thought he meant to kill de Gobignon. That angered him. Did she care so much for the Frenchman, then, that his possible death made her lose her composure? To Daoud's surprise, Ugolini jumped from his chair and advanced on him, shaking his finger and crying, "All of France will be down on us like an avalanche if you harm that boy." Daoud checked an impulse to laugh. Ugolini was such a comical figure in the flapping white robe he had donned on returning to his mansion. To Daoud, who had lived most of his life among men for whom death was as common as fear was rare, the little man's tendency to panic seemed contemptible. But, anew, he reminded himself that he needed Ugolini and must treat him with respect.