'You think he will agree?' The man's air was truculent. The three councillors looked scared.
Facino smiled grimly. 'If he has an alternative, let him take advantage of it. But let him understand that the offer of these terms is for twenty-four hours only. After that I shall not let him off so lightly.'
'Lightly!' cried Corsano in anger, and would have added more but that Facino cropped the intention.
'You have leave to go.' Thus, royally, Facino dismissed them.
They did not return within the twenty-four hours, nor as day followed day did Vignate make any further sign. Time began to hang heavily on the hands of the besiegers, and Facino's irritation grew daily, particularly when an attack of the gout came to imprison him in the cheerless house of the Curate of Pavone.
One evening a fortnight after the parley and nearly a month after the commencement of the siege, as Facino sat at supper with his officers, all save Stoffel, who was posted at Casalbagliano, the condottiero, who was growing impatient of small things, inveighed against the quality of the food.
It was Giasone Trotta, to whose riders fell the task of provisioning the army, who answered him. 'Faith! If the siege endures much longer, it is we who will be starved by it. My men have almost cleaned up the countryside for a good ten miles in every direction.'
It was a jocular exaggeration, but it provoked an explosion from Facino.
'God confound me if I understand how they hold out. With two thousand ravenous soldiers in the place, a week should have brought them to starvation.'
Koenigshofen thoughtfully stroked his square red beard. 'It's colossally mysterious,' said he.