"If!" said the elder D'Este, sternly. "There is no if, Vincenzo."
The boy looked round bewildered, and his eye fell on Conrad, waiting by the door.
"I will give orders for thy horse," he said. "Come with me——" and he led the way from the room. Conrad paused in the door, but Ippolito waved him aside sternly.
"Fare you well, Count. Vincenzo will see to your needs; meanwhile I have other things to think of—" and he strode past them, swiftly ascending the stairs to the soldiers in the higher chamber of the watch-tower.
Vincenzo, leaning on the stair-rail, with very bright eyes, looked after his father, and then toward Conrad with a sudden wistful smile. "I almost would I were to be riding gayly across a summer plain, away—away—this castle has grown gloomy of late—there is horror in the air." He shook the feeling off, speaking gayly. "Well, be glad thou art on thy way, Count Conrad, and in exchange for the horse, take, for my sake, with thee the little page Vittore. He is very young, and not of Lombardy."
"Gladly will I," replied Conrad, as they descended the narrow stairs. "And always shall I keep him for thy sake."
"Aye, do," said Vincenzo wistfully again, "otherwise thou would'st forget—of a surety, forget."
"Not I—I shall always remember."
Horses were brought to the courtyard, and Vincenzo called his little page and put him on one.