Tomaso took the clenched hand and covered it with kisses.
"I can forgive him now," he said, "since thou were not slain when Verona fell."
"'Twas no fault of the Visconti's that any living soul escaped," returned his father. "Still, go on with thy tale, Tomaso; who is this Francisco, that thou nam'st so oft?"
Tomaso, eager and suddenly light of heart, told all he knew, and ere his recital ended they had reached the open, and found everything as they had left it. The horses safe, nothing seemingly disturbed.
"Francisco will be pleased at a helper such as thou, father," said Tomaso proudly; "thou wilt be of more service in his venture than the German Count."
"And when this Francisco returns presently, the plan is that we set forth at once for Ferrara?" asked Ligozzi.
"And meanwhile rest, father, and I will bring thee food. We have already eaten."
"I, too, my son," answered Ligozzi; but he seated himself on one of the rough wooden stools and watched Tomaso affectionately, as he brought the poor horn lantern from the wall. He lit and set it on the table, where it cast a straggling and wretched light.
"Francisco is surely overlong," he said; "suppose the soldiers think to search again on their way home from some outlying district?"
"Then there will be another fight," said Vittore, "but Francisco will get the best of it."
"I owe this Francisco much," he said; "he must be a brave man, an his care saved you both. From Verona, didst thou say?"
"From Verona, father. He said he knew thee, thy name; he is di Coldra; he knew thee, he has said, and the Della Scala also!"
At Della Scala's name Ligozzi's eyes filled with tears, and his voice trembled when he spoke.
"_I_ at least knew Della Scala well," he said, "and loved him too." He paused. "Next to thee, Tomaso," he continued sadly, "his memory has filled my heart during these weary weeks. I hoped, hope against hope, he might have escaped even as I did, but there comes no sign he lives."
"Then thou didst not see him perish?" asked Tomaso softly.
"On that fearful night on which Verona fell," answered Ligozzi, "Della Scala himself defended the gates, fighting like a lion. But he was betrayed, Tomaso, by a dastard in his pay, and the Visconti's soldiers poured in through the breach, secretly, and seized the palace, the Duke unwitting till it was too late and the palace flaming. I had to carry him the news; may I never have to do the like again. The palace was a sheet of fire, the Duchess was within, and the Visconti's soldiers swarming. The Prince rushed like a madman through the streets, a little group of us behind him. Too late! The Duchess was too great a prize, the miscreants had lost no time, and she was gone. A tale had reached the Duke while he still struck about him frantically that Gian Visconti himself had led the onset, and was still within the precincts with his prisoner. But it was a trap, Tomaso, set by a traitor. Della Scala, rushing where the pikeman pointed, was led beneath a burning stairway. It crashed in. I was behind the Duke; a beam struck me down, I thought among the dead, but some friars found me and brought me back to life; of Della Scala they knew nothing." He paused, and hid his eyes a moment in his hands.