'Vignate,' he said at last, when the Duke ceased, 'can be in no great strength when all is reckoned. Facino's own condotta should fully suffice to whip him out of Alessandria and back to Lodi.'
Gian Maria moved restlessly about the room.
'What if it should not? What if Facino should be broken by Vignate? What then? Vignate will be at the gates of Milan.'
'He might be if we could not prepare for the eventuality.'
With a sudden curious eagerness Gian Maria glared at his mentor. 'Can we? In God's name, can we? If we could ...' He checked. But the sudden glow of hate and evil hope in his prominent pale eyes showed how he was rising to the bait.
Della Torre judged the moment opportune. 'We can,' he answered firmly.
'How, man? How?'
'In alliance with Malatesta your highness would be strong enough to defy all comers.'
'Malatesta!' The Duke leapt as if stung. But instantly he curbed himself. The loose embryonic features tightened, reflecting the concentration of the embryonic wicked mind within. 'Malatesta, eh?' His tone was musing. He let himself drop once more into his broad armchair, and sat there, cross-legged, pondering.
Della Torre moved softly to his side, and lowered his voice to an impressive note.