"Something had to be done," returned Tomaso, "this inaction was maddening Messer Francisco."
Conrad smiled and changed the subject.
"Who is this Francisco, thinkest thou?" he asked. "For a mere servitor at Della Scala's court, he bears a mighty hatred to Visconti."
"He served the Prince, and lost his master and his all in the sack of Verona. It is not strange he should wish to revenge Della Scala's wrongs and his own."
"I think him of better birth and station than he claims," said the Count judicially. "He has the bearing of one gently born."
"I take him for what he calls himself," the boy replied. "I owe him my life. I would die to serve him, nor would I question him."
"But would remind me that I owe him something too?" laughed Conrad. "When the time comes to show it, I shall not prove ungrateful."
He seated himself on the table, and idly swinging his legs, looked around the hut with lazy distaste and seemed to think of dozing.
"Remember we travel to-night, my lord," said Tomaso, annoyed at such indifference.