But at that I got between them. “Are you so dead to shame,” I roared, “that you dare address her, you pimp, you jackal, you eater of dirt? Be off, or I will have this drawbridge raised and deal with you here and now, in despite of Pope and Emperor and all the other powers you can invoke. Away with you, then!” “You shall pay!” he snarled, “By God, you shall pay!” And on that he went off, in some fear lest I should put my threat into execution. But Bianca was in a panic. “He will do as he says.” she cried as soon as we had re-entered the courtyard. “The Emperor cannot deny him justice. He must, he must! O, Agostino, it is the end. And see to what a pass I have brought you!” I comforted her. I spoke brave words. I swore to hold that castle as long as one stone of it stood upon another. But deep down in my heart there was naught but presages of evil. On the following day, which was Sunday, we had peace. But towards noon on Monday the blow fell. An Imperial herald from Piacenza rode out to Pagliano with a small escort. We were in the garden when word was brought us, and I bade the herald be admitted. Then I looked at Bianca. She was trembling and had turned very white. We spoke no word whilst they brought the messenger--a brisk fellow in his black-and-yellow Austrian livery. He delivered me a sealed letter. It proved to be a summons from Ferrante Gonzaga to appear upon the morrow before the Imperial Court which would sit in the Communal Palace of Piacenza to deliver judgment upon an indictment laid against me by Cosimo d'Anguissola. I looked at the herald, hesitation in my mind and glance. He held out a second letter. “This, my lord, I was asked by favour to deliver to you also.” I took it, and considered the superscription: “These to the Most Noble Agostino d'Anguissola, at Pagliano. Quickly. Quickly. Quickly.” The hand was Galeotto's. I tore it open. It contained but two lines: “Upon your life do not fail to obey the Imperial summons. Send Falcone to me here at once.” And it was signed--“GALEOTTO.” “It is well,” I said to the herald, “I will not fail to attend.” I bade the seneschal who stood in attendance to give the messenger refreshment ere he left, and upon that dismissed him. When we were alone I turned to Bianca. “Galeotto bids me go,” I said. “There is surely hope.” She took the note, and passing a hand over her eyes, as if to clear away some mist that obscured her vision, she read it. Then she considered the curt summons that gave no clue, and lastly looked at me. “It is the end,” I said. “One way or the other, it is the end. But for Galeotto's letter, I think I should have refused to obey, and made myself an outlaw indeed. As it is--there is surely hope!” “O, Agostino, surely, surely!” she cried. “Have we not suffered enough? Have we not paid enough already for the happiness that should be ours? To-morrow I shall go with you to Piacenza.” “No, no,” I implored her.