The taunt made speech come more easily. "No man can ask more than another's humiliation, that other suing humbly for pardon——"
"I did not ask so much," said Mastino, his back still to him. "You are unhurt."
And the Count glanced at Della Scala's face, and saw a little of what he had done; that speech was useless.
He moved to go, murmuring something with bent head; at the door he turned again. "Della Scala," he began, "I——"
"I will never willingly see your face again," interrupted Mastino. "Go and join my other allies—in Milan."
Conrad drew himself up.
"God helping me, I will go to Milan," he said. "I will further your cause in Milan itself—even though I leave with you my sword."
Still Mastino stood motionless, and slowly Conrad passed through the doors, and down the stairs, through the soldiery that turned their backs—cast out. As the door clashed to behind the Count, Mastino turned passionately and strode into the inner room, not knowing what he did, so great the agony of his helpless fury and despair.
A gloomy window gave a view upon the open country.