"No more, thanks."
"There will be that left for to-morrow before we start."
"Then you also are a traveller?"
"If you so put it; but I have been here for a week."
"An odd retreat to choose."
"Any hole will do for a rat."
"True; but we were wolves a moment ago," I smiled.
"I did not say I was," he replied drily, "but you looked wolf all over when you came in. Give me your hand."
I stretched out my hand, and he held my open palm near the torch, bent over it, and examined the lines keenly.
"Yes," he muttered half to himself, "strong fingers that can close over a sword-hilt, a soldier too, and one who has seen wars. Too much conscience ever to be great. You will never die a prince as Sforza did. Stay--what do I see? A man changed to a wolf--no--wolf you will never be. A bitter enemy, a woman who loves you, and a free heart for yourself. Sorrow and danger, bale and ruth, then calm waters and peace. There! Are you satisfied? If the devil does not upset this, it is the map of your life. Can you read mine?"