"Give them their answer now," whispered Ligozzi, eagerly. "Do not let them imagine for one moment that you hesitate."
Mastino did not heed him; he sat as if frozen.
"Leave me to—" the words died on his lips. "Leave me—to answer—I will give you my answer—anon."
De Lana and Giannotto moved in silence to the far end of the tent.
"Visconti is a fiend," said de Lana, with a gesture of revolt. "Santa Maria, I wish I had never seen this Della Scala. His face will haunt me."
Giannotto smiled.
"Thou hast not been in Visconti's service long," he said, "and what have these things to do with us?"
"But this is inhuman," returned de Lana. "Della Scala hath a winning face. I might have been a better man if I had sold my sword to him."
"This way, messers," said Ligozzi. "I will come to you presently." And the flap of the tent fell-to behind Visconti's messengers. Mastino sat, his head dropped into his hands.