Bellarion the Fortunate

by Rafael Sabatini

He moved to do so, and then checked. 'Yourself you restored theirs to the others.'

'The others are not as you. Upon you has fallen the mantle of Facino. How much of that mantle will you wear, Bellarion?'

'As much of it as my lord intended. You have heard his testament, madonna.'

'But not your own interpretation of it.'

'Have I not said that my life and services are at your command, as my lord, to whom I owe everything, enjoined upon me?'

'Your life and services,' she said slowly. Her breast heaved as if in repressed agitation. 'That is much to offer, Bellarion. Do you ask nothing in return?'

'I offer these in return for all that I have received already. It is I who make payment, madonna.'

Again there was a baffled pause. She sighed heavily. 'You make it hard for me, Bellarion.' There was a pathetic break in her voice.

'What do I make hard?'

She rose, and in evident timidity came to stand before him. She set a white hand on the black velvet sleeve of his tunic. Her lovely face, with which time had dealt so mercifully, was upturned to his, and there was now no arrogance in its lines or in her glance. She spoke quietly, wistfully.