And the next instant the men sprang to their feet in affright at what was before them, at the livid face looking at them—Mastino della Scala.
"My wife!" he cried hoarsely. "Give me my wife!"
They looked on one another, helpless, and made no answer. But Mastino, striding forward, seized the foremost by the throat and shook him like a rag.
"Where is she? What have you done with her? Is she not bought and paid for? Where is she?"
Tomaso sprang into the tent, a piteous young figure, wet to the skin.
"Oh, my lord!—I will take thee to her. Come away! Come with me!"
His voice broke into a passion of sobs, and Mastino dropped his hands and paused.
"Your lady lies still in her litter," said a soldier.
"Out yonder in the rain, you rascal!" cried Della Scala. "What is she doing there?"