"I have been to the tent, but further than the door I dare not."
"What was there to see?"
"The boy—alone, weeping like a woman. Santa Maria! I should not like the watch he keeps!"
"The Prince is mad, think you?"
"The Prince is mad, or—hush!—possessed."
The men fell again to a silence, broken only by the patter of the rain. At last another spoke, one drawn further back into the tent.
"How came it about, think you?"
"Visconti——"
"Ah, yes, Visconti, of a surety; but how?"