A great sorrow welled up from Bellarion's heart. All that he now was, all that he possessed, his very life itself, he owed to Facino's boundless generosity. And in return he was become a thorn in Facino's flesh.
'Why, sir,' he said slowly, smiling a little as if in deprecation, 'this matter of levies has been lately in my thoughts. To be frank, I have been thinking of raising a condotta of my own.'
Facino sat bolt upright in his surprise. Clearly his first emotion was of displeasure.
'Oho! You grow proud?'
'I have my ambitions.'
'How long have you nursed this one? It's the first I hear of it.'
Blandly Bellarion looked across at him, and bland was his tone.
'I matured the conceit as I rode abroad to-day.'
'As you rode abroad?'
Facino's eyes were intently upon his face. It conserved its blandness. The condottiero's glance flickered and fell away. They understood each other.