"In my uncle's name, I bid you leave this gentleman where he lies.

He is a wounded knight whom I have been pleased to tend--a matter which seems to have aroused Messer Gonzaga's anger against him." Beltrame paused, and looked from Valentina to Gonzaga, undecided.
"Madonna," said Gonzaga, with assumed humility, "your word is law with us.

But I would have you consider that, what I bid Beltrame do is in the interest of his Highness, whose territory is infested by these vagabonding robbers.

It is a fact that may not have reached you in your convent retreat, no more than has sufficient knowledge reached you yet--in your incomparable innocence--to distinguish between rogues and honest men.

Beltrame, do my bidding." Valentina's foot tapped the ground impatiently, and into her eyes there came a look of anger that heightened her likeness to her martial uncle.
But Peppe it was who spoke.
"For all that there seem to be fools enough, already, meddling in this business," he said, in tones of mock lament, "permit that I join their number, Ser Romeo, and listen to my counsel." "Out, fool," cried Gonzaga, cutting at him with his riding-switch, "we need not your capers." "No, but you need my wisdom," retorted Ser Peppe, as he leapt beyond Gonzaga's reach.