The voice which awoke Bianca Maria from her reverie was very pleasant to her ear. There was an unaffected frankness in it--as if welling up clear from the heart-which was prepossessing to a pure, young, innocent mind like hers.
"Ah! Signor De Vitry," replied Lorenzo, "I have, indeed, had good fortune in many ways; and I suppose I ought in common gratitude to Heaven, to think it all unmixed good. But I have somewhat suffered in body, and now I am troubled to think what is to become of my troop while I lie here useless. I would the king would bestow it upon De Terrail, and let me have another chance."
"Think not of it," answered De Vitry; "we will arrange all things for you. Bayard is a noble fellow, who will win high fame some day, but we must obey the king. I find De Terrail has been here, and suppose you have seen him, for they tell me he went on two hours ago."
"Two hours!" exclaimed Lorenzo; "hardly so much, I think."
"Ay! time flies fast under bright eyes," answered De Vitry, with a laugh. "Two hours the servants below tell me, and no less. However, I must on my way. I only stopped to inquire what had happened, for no news had reached me when I marched; and I found a prisoner below whom Bayard left for me--a man who waited without, it seems, while Monsieur Buondoni busied himself with you within. I had three others of the villains in my power before, but they do not seem to be as deep in their master's secrets as this gentleman. But my provost must have finished the work I gave him by this time, and so I must on. Your pardon, sweet young lady, will you give me leave just to look forth from this window?"
He passed Blanche Marie with a courteous inclination of the head, and gazed forth toward the high road, and then, turning to Lorenzo, added:
"Ay, it is all right. Farewell for the present, Visconti. Rest quietly till you are quite well. We shall halt at Pavia for two or three days till the king comes on, and then probably for some days more. But I will come and see you from time to time, and we will make all needful arrangements. Shall I be welcome, sweet lady?"
"Oh, right welcome, noble sir," replied Bianca Maria, to whom his words were addressed; "but you must not go without tasting some refreshment, and you must see the Count Rovera, my grandsire."
"Nay, I have but little time," answered De Vitry; "and yet a cup of wine from such fair hands were mightily refreshing after a dusty ride. Your grandsire I will see when I am in a more fitting attire. 'Tis but six miles to Pavia, I am told; and I will soon ride over again, were it but to make excuse to the old count for hanging an assassin just before his gates. However, it may chance to warn others of the same cloth to venture here no more."
Bianca Maria's cheek turned somewhat pale, and she suddenly turned her eyes in the direction toward which De Vitry had been looking from the window a moment or two before. There was a dark object hanging among the bare branches of a mulberry-tree long divested of its leaves. She could not exactly distinguish what that object was, but she divined; and, turning away with a shudder, she murmured: