"The Duke met my lord d'Este. He knows," said the soldier gruffly, and left the room. It would have pleased him to strangle the foppish foreigner who had well-nigh ruined them. Conrad felt half relieved, half sorry; whether Vincenzo's relation had been as kind to him as his own would have been he doubted--he felt a wild desire to hide himself till Della Scala's rage had blown a little over. As he stood there, miserable, undecided, he heard the salutations of the soldiers and a heavy tread outside. He remembered that Mastino was a giant;--he had once found it to his advantage, he might now find it to his peril; but it was not fear, but bitter shame, that brought Conrad almost to his knees. He knew that Della Scala was there, though he did not raise his head. "Conrad," said Mastino, and his voice was strangely altered. "Conrad." The Count, with an effort, looked at Mastino, who stood in front of the door he had closed, with a face from which all color had been struck. "When did you discover--this?" continued Della Scala, and pointed to the parchment. All elaborate excuses and appeals for pardon Conrad had prepared died away on his tongue. "An hour ago," he replied lamely. "An hour ago!" Mastino walked across to the parchment hanging on the wall. Conrad's eyes followed him; he could find no words to break the silence. Della Scala first read, then tore the writing down, and crushed it in his hand; then he looked at the door, standing ajar. "How many have deserted?" he asked in a hard voice. "Vincenzo said half the army." Conrad could not answer the truth. "How many?" and Mastino turned toward him. "Carrara has taken all his force," faltered the wretched man. Mastino crushed the parchment yet tighter in his hand, and walked up to Conrad, who shrank before his face. "Your sword, Count," he said. Conrad hesitated, bewildered. "You are no longer in my service; as my officer you wear that sword; as what you are, I demand it from you." And he held out his hand. In silence Conrad drew the weapon. Mastino took it, broke it, threw it on the floor. "And now go," he said. At last Conrad found his voice. "Lord!" he cried, "let me stay." "Go," said Mastino. "I will stay," faltered Conrad, "and amend my fault." But Della Scala turned his back on him. "Go to Visconti," he flashed. "Tisio plays chess as well almost as Vincenzo." The taunt made speech come more easily. "No man can ask more than another's humiliation, that other suing humbly for pardon----" "I did not ask so much," said Mastino, his back still to him. "You are unhurt." And the Count glanced at Della Scala's face, and saw a little of what he had done; that speech was useless. He moved to go, murmuring something with bent head; at the door he turned again. "Della Scala," he began, "I----" "I will never willingly see your face again," interrupted Mastino. "Go and join my other allies--in Milan." Conrad drew himself up.