Mastino had left the entrance half open, and a great shaft of sunlight fell across the ground like a branch of yellow flowers.
And as Della Scala passed it fell upon him, showing clearly his erect figure in its leathern doublet, his fine worn face and the unhappiness in his eyes, his hands locked behind his back.
The next instant he had passed into the shadow again, and Ligozzi leaned from where he sat and shook the covering into place. Twice Mastino had passed, twice he had seen the look on his face, and he did not care to see it again.
The tent was hot.
Tomaso and the page laid the armor down in silence, overawed by the silent figure pacing to and fro.
Outside it was quiet too, only now and then the gallop past of horses or the tramp of men as they moved from one part of the field to another.
At last Mastino spoke, stopping before Ligozzi suddenly.
"I have not told thee yet," he said, "but a messenger has arrived from d'Este. There have been some slight successes with his army, and he thinks that I should join him."
"And leave Milan?"