He found it villainous of expression, inflamed and blotched; the hair hung matted about a bullet head, and the eyes glared fiercely from either side of a pendulous nose.

Of the knightly rank by which the taverner addressed him the fellow bore no outward signs.

Arms he carried, it is true; a sword and dagger at his belt, whilst beside him on the table stood a rusty steel-cap.

But these warlike tools served only to give him the appearance of a roving masnadiero or a cut-throat for hire.

Presently abandoning the comtemplation of Gonzaga he turned to his companions, and across to the listener floated a coarse and boasting tale of a plunderous warfare in Sicily ten years agone.