"No thanks are needed," he said quickly. "I am Francisco di Coldra, from Verona, and ever ready to serve those whom Visconti hates!"
Ligozzi stood bare-headed, as if dazed.
Francisco spoke again, with meaning. "Thy travel hath confused thee, sir," he said; "thou thinkest thou art still at the Duke of Verona's court, that thou standest thus humble?"
At this, Ligozzi roused himself. "Tomaso has told me—" he began. But again Francisco stopped him.
"We must to horse!" he cried. "To horse! Too much time has already been shamelessly wasted," and he strode out, motioning to them to follow.
By the horses stood Conrad Sigismund, bringing them one by one under review, in the scanty gleam of light afforded by the lantern, and that flickered upon them through the space that answered for a window.
"A roan!" he cried gaily, "I ever loved a roan charger. I will have this one, Francisco." He spoke airily, as if ten minutes since Francisco had not lashed him with his tongue, and threatened him even with death, should his foolhardiness endanger them again.
"Thou wilt ride the black," said Francisco coldly.
"Because I love the roan?" asked the other with a laugh.