'I have to thank you for that courtesy,' said Bellarion gravely.
'Courtesy wasn't in my mind.'
A patriotic Swiss and an able soldier, Stoffel had the appearance of neither. He was of middle height and a gracefully slim figure which he dressed with elegance and care. His face was shaven, long and olive-skinned with a well-bridged nose and dark pensive eyes under straight black eyebrows. There was about him something mincing and delicate, but entirely pleasant, for with it all he was virile and intrepid.
'You voiced,' he said now, 'a possibility which should not have been left outside their calculations.'
'I have never seen a battle,' said Bellarion. 'But I do not need to see one to know that all strategy is bad which does not consider and provide for every likely counter-move that is discernible.'
'And the counter-move you suggested was discernible enough—at least, when you suggested it.'
Bellarion looked at the Swiss so far as the Swiss was visible in the faint radiance of that warm summer night.
'Thinking as you do, why did you not support me, Stoffel?'
'Carmagnola and de Cadillac are soldiers of repute, and so is even Koenigshofen, whilst I am but the captain of a small body of Swiss infantry whose office it is to carry out the duties imposed upon him. I do not give advice unasked, which is why even now I dare not suggest to Facino that he repair his omission to place scouts on the heights. He takes Buonterzo's vulnerability too much for granted.'
Bellarion smiled. 'Which is why you seek me; hoping that I will suggest it to him.'