Lastly, he bethought him of the man whose power he was bidden to usurp.

His own cousin, his father's sister's son, in whose veins ran the same blood as in his own.
He raised his head at last, and met those anxious faces on which the fitful light was casting harsh shadows.

The pale ghost of a smile hovered for a second on the corners of his stern mouth.
"I thank you, sirs, for the honour you have done me," he made answer slowly, "an honour of which I fear I am all unworthy." In strenuous chorus their voices rose to contradict him.
"At least, then, an honour which I cannot accept." There was a moment's silence, and their faces from eager that they had been, grew downcast to the point of sullenness.
"But why, my lord ?" cried old Fabrizio at last, his arms outstretched towards the Count, his voice quivering with intensity.

"Santissima Vergine! Why ?" "Because--to give you but one reason out of many--the man you ask me to overthrow and supplant is of my own blood." And but that his tone was calm they might have held that he rebuked them.
"I had thought," hazarded seriously the gay Fanfulla, "that with such a man as your Excellency, patriotism and the love of Babbiano would have weighed even more than the ties of blood." "And you had thought well, Fanfulla.

Did I not say that the reason I gave you was but one of many?
Tell me, sirs, what cause have you to believe that I should rule you wisely and well?
It so chances that in the crisis now threatening Babbiano a captain is needed for its ruler.
But let not this delude you, for there may come a season in the fortunes of the State when such a man might be as unfitted for dominion as is the present Duke in this.