But it was not the windows that he saw.

It was a scene in the woods at Acquasparta on that morning after the mountain fight; a man lying wounded in the bracken, and over him a gentle lady bending with eyes of pity and solicitude.

Often since had his thoughts revisited that scene, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with a sigh, and sometimes with both at once.
He turned suddenly upon Fanfulla.

"I will go myself," he announced.
"You ?" echoed Fanfulla.

"But the Venetians ?" By a gesture the Count signified how little the Venetians weighed with him when compared with the fortunes of this lady.
"I am going to Roccaleone," he insisted, "now--at once." And striding to the door he beat his hands together and called Lanciotto.
"You said, Fanfulla, that in these days there are no longer maidens held in bondage to whom a knight-errant may lend aid.