There was a note of concern in Iago's tone that drew from Cassio a great measure of surprise, and he slowed in his intrepid step briefly, turning to cast an incredulous glance upon the man in hopes of divining something from his look. There was distance in those pale eyes, and a shadow that might, perhaps have been guilt...or regret...but it passed so quickly that Cassio could not be certain he had seen aught at all.
"I will not endeavor to speak false," he replied cautiously, "for I wish to undermine neither Emilia's apprehension nor your own ability to perceive it." If, indeed, the man possessed such a wit... "She was horribly grieved at your absence; in faith, her concern for you was so great that she was moved to tears on more than one occasion. Weary she was, too...no doubt her fears made impossible the attainment of peaceful repose."
Cassio observed Iago with care as he spoke, paying no heed to the bumbling figure of the young Lucentio, struggling to keep pace behind them. Forsooth, how could the man react to such a statement? If he was one who truly cared...surely this news of his wife's distressed state would cut him to the heart...
"The general, too, was worried," he added, feeling his own bemusement at his ignorance of the situation's nature rise up in him again, unbidden. "I do believe your wife did make him privy to some unhappy musings of hers, regarding your state...though I know not what they were. I hope you will consider what is spoke comes from mine own unease for a comrade's regard, and therefore see fit to enlighten me...and all the rest that await our arrival...as to the occasion of this most unfortunate circumstance."