'A small army. Let us see what success della Scala has with a small army. Our all is much to ask.'

What say you to that?' asked Ippolito of his son.

'With all my heart,' returned Vincenzo. 'An army small or large, so long as it rids us of his gloomy face about court.'

'Thou art an insolent boy,' interrupted his father sternly. 'At thy sister's wedding thou wert proud that Mastino della Scala stooped to pat thee on the head. The Duke of Verona was once as much greater than we, Vincenzo, as we are higher than a footman. It goes not with nobility nor with honour to slight the fallen.'

Vincenzo blushed under his father's rebuke and sat silent. But Giacomo, always ready to smooth things over, turned to the Duchess of Mantua.

'And you,' he said. 'You, lady, what think you of trusting della Scala with an army?'

Julia Gonzaga smiled a little wearily.

Where is he, to speak for himself?' she asked.

'We are waiting for him,' Ippolito replied. 'He said he would be with us. He is late,' he added testily.

'Doubtless the hour has escaped him,' put in Giacomo pleasantly. 'The Duke of Verona will not fail us.'

'He will disappoint us—if he turns up,' said Vincenzo under his breath. But Conrad caught the whisper and choked with a suppressed laugh—not that the remark was funny, but that Count von Schulembourg was foolish. Ippolito's stern, eyes were turned on him.

'Is this a council of war?' he asked, 'or a gathering of—'

'A council of war,' interposed Conrad hastily, with his most winning smile.

But d'Este looked on him with mistrust; he had no love for the light-hearted German.

Still Mastino came not, and Giacomo moved with a great show of patience and forbearance.

''Tis scarcely the way to treat with us,' he said.

''Tis treatment good enough for those who bear it,' breathed Vincenzo, and Conrad sniffed his orange. Ippolito's brow grew dark; he struck a gong beside him, and a page appeared.

'Tell my lord of Verona we wait for him.' He turned to the others. ''Tis agreed,' he said quickly, 'that we furnish della Scala with a small army—to be contributed between us'

Carrara moved in silent assent; on Julia Gonzaga's face a faint scorn showed.

A silence fell, broken only by the tapping of d'Este's fingers on the polished table.

Then at the farther end of the chamber two pages drew apart the scarlet curtains and Mastino della Scala entered. Conrad, glancing up, wondered how even for a moment he could have mistaken him for aught but what he was, so noble and stately was his bearing.

Conrad and the d'Estes moved at his entrance, but slightly, and kept their eyes upon him as he walked to the head of the table and there took his place.

Though by far the plainest in attire, his simple leather doublet in marked contrast with Conrad's display and Vincenzo's fashion, he took the head of the council, naturally and unquestioned. So much of the glory of his former greatness still remained to him.

'And are your councils ended?' he asked. 'I would hasten you, my lords. Still further delay, and Visconti will be first in the field.'

He paused, and took his seat in the large black chair, looking keenly at their faces.

For a moment no one answered, then Giacomo leaned forward with a deprecating smile.

'My lord of Verona,' he said smoothly, 'you ask us to venture everything—and give us five days in which to decide—surely you are not surprised our answer is not quite ready?'

Mastino della Scala bit his lip to keep back an angry reply. 'Five hours were enough in such a case as this, my lord,' he said quietly.

Now d'Este spoke hastily. 'We have come to a resolution, Mastino—one in which we all agree,' and he looked questioningly around upon the others. No one answered, and, taking silence for consent, Ippolito continued:

We will aid thee, Mastino, I and Carrara, and the Duchess of Mantua—'

He paused a little nervously, and Giacomo kept his bright black eyes on Mastino's face.

'My lord of Ferrara says rightly,' he put in smoothly. 'I will second him.'

The note of condescension in the Duke of Padua's voice stung della Scala sharply; it was only with an effort he controlled himself.

'With what will you aid me?' he asked calmly.

Still d'Este hesitated, for his proposal was mean even in his own eyes, but Giacomo answered for him in even tones: 'We will aid you with an army of ten thousand men, Lord della Scala, to be recruited from Padua, Mantua, and Ferrara; well armed and—'

But della Scala had risen.

'Spare thyself a catalogue of their virtue, my lord of Padua,' he said. 'For I refuse thy offer—one well worthy of a Carrara!' Giacomo paled with anger; his merchant descent was a sore point, and Mastino's words struck home.

'Refuse!' exclaimed Ippolito. 'Ten thousand men!' Della Scala glanced at him with scorn.

'Ten thousand men!' he echoed. 'Yes, I refuse ten thousand men. I thought thou once lovedst me, d'Este, and wert too much of a soldier to dishonour me by such a proposal.'

'We can make it more—' began Ippolito.

'Dost thou not think I can see through this?' interrupted Mastino bitterly. 'This offer is but given to get rid of me—a safer way of dismissing me from the court that once cringed to entertain me than a plain refusal. Ten thousand men! I thought better of thee, d'Este.'

'Then fifty thousand,' replied Ippolito, stung by the reproach.