Gradually a very deadly expression came to usurp in the Duke's eyes that blinder madness of desperation. An indolent smile relaxed his features. He yawned, it was because, the soul horror being temporarily withdrawn, the incontinent devil was supplanting in him the tempestuous one. He rolled lazily about, addressing his creature once more:—
'You doctors—all the same! Big words to little cures. Treat a State's constitution or a man's—'tis the word's the thing. Ye woo not the truth, but her raiment. Hear'st me? I had a tutor once, a crabbed fellow called Montano.'
He yawned again. The prisoner below (Cola Montano himself) gasped slightly, and shot one stealthy glance his way. Lascaris sniggered.
'Surely, lord,' he said, 'we need no reminding while the man himself keeps his tongue.'
A half-suppressed snarl broke from the prisoner. Galeazzo, hunched on his cushions, stared vacantly before him.
'Ah!' he said, 'he could talk. I remember him, a midwife to the wind—as ye all be—as ye all be. What of the fellow?'
Lascaris wondered.
'Little, in truth, Magnificence, save in so far as your Magnificence was pleased to introduce his name.'
'Did I? I had forgot. What was the connection? Empty words, was it not, and vainglory and presumption?'
'And discontent. Add it thereto, Illustrious.'