Adventure, June 1911 — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

254 yourself, my lord!”” I answered politely. “T am well aware that it is your business to lie in your master’s service, and that you do it with great success; but it is an accom- plishment that I have never required from my followers.” : A guffaw from my troopers pointed the remark and increased Della Torre’s fury. He fingered his sword-hilt, then controlled himself with an effort. ‘You .use insult safely, Sir John Hawkwood!” he told me, in a voice thickened with passion. ‘You know that I can not stoop to fight you!” ‘Perhaps it is more prudent in you to refrain,” I mocked. ‘‘ You remember, no doubt, how I served your friend Lord Raimondo.” “I prefer to wait,” he answered, white with fury, “‘and see the business done by hands more fit than mine to touch you! ~The Prince has some pleasant plans for your end, Sir John. You recall how he served the traitor Cagliari? Your death will be more lingering——” “He has not caught me yet,” I pointed out. “Keep your sympathy till it is needed, my good friend. Is it the wheel he plans for me, or will he despatch me secretly with a dagger-thrust? I have heard that the latter is his favorite device. Was it not so that you and he rid Verona of Bartolomeo della Scala?” His pallor told me that the blow had gone home. fierce retort when O’Meara’s voice an- nounced from behind us that the Princess desired instant speech with Madonna Vio- lante. I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lip, for I had entertained a feeble hope that she might refuse, since she had no love for the favorite’s shrewd, scheming wife. Della Torre went over to his wife, assisted her gallantly to dismount, and offered her his arm to lead her into the castle. I waved him back. ‘‘ Messer O’Meara will escort the Lady Violante to the Princess,” I stated coldly. ‘You, my lord, will remain here.” For the second time Della Torre flinched, for his wife was the one person in the world for whom he felt real tenderness. “What matter, my lord?” she said, gently loosening his clasp. “I am not afraid. Sir John Hawkwood, I see, enjoys the giving of orders and the regulating of trifles. Well, surely it would be cruel in us to deny him this. pleasure—he will have so short a time to play the master!”” She gave me a con- He was about to favor me with a’ Adventure temptuous glance, then swept into the castle, her head high, O’Meara following her, looking rather grim. a FOR a time there was silence save fs for the whispers of my staring “+ troopers. Della Torre was obviously uneasy, Messer Gianni in the sulks. Being none too happy myself, I decided to divert myself with some further exchange of wit with these two. : “Well, now, Potrero,”’ I began, ‘‘tell me frankly, as one soldier to another, did you not admire the pretty fashion in which I seized your prey from under your nose at the inn yesterday?” | He scowled furiously. ‘He laughs best who laughs last, Sir John,” he muttered. “Yes, you played me a pretty trick, but for all that I would not like to stand in your boots now!” | “You speak very mysteriously. I see you have a plot ‘in progress against me,” I remarked, . “Faith, I am glad to be quit of the Veronese Court—never did. I see a place so full of plots; they make the head of a. plain, blunt Englishman turn round. There is Della Torre, for instance. Two days ago he was plotting with his wife to forge a: packet in my hand, convey it to the Prince’s notice, and so convict me of conspiracy with. Padua and put me from his way forever!” Della Torre turned white .as death and gazed at me as at an apparition from the grave. “You are mad!” he muttered through dry lips, after a long moment of frightened silence which I énjoyed to the full. “What do you mean?P”’ 3 “T mean that a man should not plan such evil tricks in an open Joggia where he may well be overheard,” I answered airily. ‘You look extremely foolish, Della Torre. If the Prince could see you now I think he would regret that he ever gave his favor to a person who so much resembled an imbecile. Take my counsel—if you must blacken your noble soul with such schemes, at least school your- self to meet discovery without such a look of guilt!” “Keep your advice!” he answered rudely, recovering himself. “It is you that are the fool, Sir John Hawkwood, Had you flat- tered the Prince and done all he bade you, in time you might have supplanted me, and ruled Verona! Instead, you stake your life on this mad enterprise, the saints know why, CORNICLOO© (C@ S