"The serving-man in my lord's antechamber has orders that my lord is to be disturbed by no one, since he is preparing for his departure on the morrow—"
"For his departure?"
The page eyed Francesco curiously, as if he wondered at his ignorance of that which was on the lips of all the court.
"You have not heard?"
"I have just returned to Avellino,—from a mission," he replied, avoiding the inquisitive gaze he knew to be upon him.
"Then you know not that King Conradino has crossed the Alps? The court departs on the morrow to join him before the walls of Pavia!"
Francesco's hand had gone to his head.
"Conradino has crossed the Alps?" he spoke as out of the depths of a dream.
"I will see the Viceroy on the morrow!"
Leaving the page to gaze after him in strange wonderment, Francesco went slowly towards the stairs. He shrank unspeakably from explanations and scenes of farewell. At the idea of pity and amazement which his fate might call up, he fairly shuddered. Perhaps there might be even sneers from his companions. And, by the time he had reached his own chamber, he was debating the possibility of departing as if for a journey with excuses to none save his liege lord, the Viceroy of Apulia.