"Has this Francisco half-closed eyes, and a ready, pleasant smile?" he asked.
Vittore looked up in surprise.
"He has such eyes," he answered. "I have not ever seen him smile like that. Thou didst know him then, my uncle?"
"Yes," Ligozzi answered brokenly. "I think—I remember him—at Della Scala's court."
But here Tomaso, calling on him, re-entered the hut, followed by Francisco, whose stately presence seemed to make the mean place smaller still.
"My father," said the boy joyfully; "my father, saved from the taking of Verona, and come a long way in search of us!"
Francisco fell back, uttering a stifled exclamation; the anger cleared from his brow. He looked keenly at the figure in the shadow.
"Ligozzi!" he exclaimed, with shining eyes. "Ligozzi lives!"
"It was a miracle, was it not?" said Tomaso eagerly. "He has come to join us. He owes thee thanks, Messer Francisco, as do we."
And all this time his father had not spoken. Tomaso wondered at it, and now, when Ligozzi came forward shrinkingly, Francisco raised his hand as if to keep him back, or warn him, or restrain.