"I am a churl," said Hugh remorsefully. "Forgive me!"
"Nay, this time I shall not forgive," she teased. "Hast beat me with a stick in years past, Hugh. Hast ordered me about as man-at-arms and squire. Always have I forgiven you. But this time I have a mind to hold my anger over your head."
Hugh's stern young face relaxed into a boyish grin.
"And now I know you for the same old lass," he cried. "Ever ready with words and—— But this talk serves naught. Wilt name me always your knight?"
"Always, Hugh."
"One thing more." He lowered his voice. "Trust not this man Mocenigo. He hath an evil manner."
"He is my father's friend, it seems," she replied.
"Friend or not, he——"
"Trust him I must, Hugh," she rebuked. "He bears my father's warrant as well as that of his Emperor. A great man he must be."
"A great man, indeed!" scoffed Hugh. "An Italian swaggerer, some cut-throat expelled his own country!"