He awoke, as he thought never to wake again, with moistened lips, and water on his forehead, and a face that was not Visconti's bending over him; a dark face with strange brown eyes that looked at him with sombre interest.
"Thou comest from the Duke?" gasped Conrad. Francisco shook his head.
"I am no emissary of Visconti."
"Then thou comest to save me?" whispered Conrad eagerly, hope dawning in his eyes.
"I will save thee if I can," replied Francisco. "Thou art alone?"
Conrad moved his head. He was too weak for more. Then a sudden thought shot horror into his face, and he struggled to a sitting posture.
"The water!" he gasped out. "The water—from the fountain—thou gave me to drink of that?"
Francisco followed in surprise the direction of his glance.
"No," he said. "I had it with me; 'twas water and wine too."
"Oh!" Conrad sank back. "The water is poisoned—all——"