"Plays for gold crowns!" exclaimed Bayard; "you are surely mistaken, cavaliere."
"Did he not do so last night, my lord? I understood he won three hundred off Fabrizio?"
"Impossible," said Bayard, "I was at the Vatican last night, and the party in which Colonna was playing consisted of Strigonia, Monsignore Florido, our Lord the Pope, and Colonna himself--no more. St. Armande was standing hard at hand for some little time, but never took a wager. In fact, he passed most of the evening with Giulia Bella, thrumming on a lute, much to the annoyance of his holiness. I should say it would be well for him to quit Rome."
"Then I am wrong," I said; "yes, I fancy it would be well for him to quit Rome."
By this time the others came up, and we said no more. As we went back to Rome, I dropped a little behind, reflecting on what Bayard had told me. It was certain that St. Armande had lied to me, and I began to feel sure he had done this not for my good. In short, it seemed to me that this innocent looking boy, with his shy retiring manners and apparent want of knowledge of the world, was nothing more or less than an accomplished actor. Then again he was a Frenchman, and how came he, obviously fresh from France, to become an agent of the Medici plotters, for so I put him down to be? There were the letters from Madame de la Tremouille, his introductions were unimpeachable, the cardinal believed in him--the whole thing was contradictory. Above all, there was my strong personal liking for St. Armande. In his presence I never felt that secret warning which all men feel when they are with an enemy. I have never known it fail with me, and with St. Armande there was no such warning, no such silent signal which goes straight from soul to soul. On the contrary, I felt he was almost more than friendly towards me, and I felt, in my turn towards him, despite our short acquaintance, very nearly the same protective feeling that one has towards a defenceless child. As may be imagined, I was in no very comfortable frame of mind about this, and rode back silently, revolving the point. When we reached the palace, almost the first person I met was St. Armande, and as I dismounted he came up to me with a cordial greeting and asked--
"Well, cavaliere, good sport I trust?"
"Very," I replied shortly, and then looked him straight in the face as I added, "Do you intend to give the Colonna his revenge to-night?"
Something in my tone caught him, he met my eyes for a moment, then dropped his gaze, and looked towards the ground. We stood thus before each other for a little time before he replied, and his voice was almost inaudible.
"Perhaps--I am not sure," he added with an effort.
I was standing, holding Castor's reins; but as he spoke I handed the horse over to a groom, and, linking my arm in St. Armande's, said loudly, and with a tone of affected gaiety: