"My friend, at last Heaven has heard!"
"He carries no torch," said Ligozzi, wonderingly, for though footsteps ascended, no ray of light fell across the dark.
"He stayed not for torch," cried Della Scala. "Bring up the men, Ligozzi!"
As he spoke, a figure forced itself out of the dark, a wild figure, and yet Tomaso's; his white face was smeared with blood which trickled from a great gash on his forehead, his doublet was rent and torn, and he reeled as if hurt and spent.
"O Mother of God!" muttered Mastino. "Mother of God!"
Tomaso sank at his feet with a bitter cry.
"All is over!" he cried. "We are betrayed. Oh, would I were dead before I had to tell thee!"
"Betrayed?" echoed Della Scala. All the life was struck out of him, he steadied himself against the cavern wall and looked at the boy dully. "Betrayed?"
"Betrayed? By whom?" cried Ligozzi. "Ah, thou art hurt!"