Yet, resentment had no part in her confusion.

She found no presumption in his speech, nor aught that a brave knight might not say to the lady who had succoured him in his distress.

Peppe, who stood listening and marking the Count's manner, knowing the knight's station, was filled now with wonder, now with mockery; yet never interfered.
"What is your name, sir knight ?" she asked, after a pause.
His eyes looked troubled, and as they shot beyond her to the fool, they caught on Peppe's face a grin of sly amusement.
"My name," he said at last, "is Francesco." And then, to prevent that she should further question him--"But tell me, Madonna," he inquired, "how comes a lady of your station here, alone with that poor fraction of a man ?" And he indicated the grinning Peppe.
"My people are yonder in the woods, where we have halted for a little space.

I am on my way to my uncle's court, from the Convent of Santa Sofia, and for my escort I have Messer Romeo Gonzaga and twenty spears.
So that, you see, I am well protected, without counting Ser Peppe here and the saintly Fra Domenico, my confessor." There was a pause, ended at length by Francesco.
"You will be the younger niece of his Highness of Urbino ?" said he.
"Not so, Messer Francesco," she answered readily.

"I am the elder." At that his brows grew of a sudden dark.
"Can you be she whom they would wed to Gian Maria ?" he exclaimed, at which the fool pricked up his ears, whilst she looked at the Count with a gaze that plainly showed how far she was from understanding him.
"You said ?" she asked.
"Why, nothing," he answered, with a sigh, and in that moment a man's voice came ringing through the wood.
"Madonna! Madonna Valentina!" Francesco and the lady turned their eyes in the direction whence the voice proceeded, and they beheld a superbly dazzling figure entering the glade.