Rapidly they traversed the narrow street that led to the gate, Valentine erect and joyful, Isotta leaning on her arm, happy too, with a deeper happiness, but faint and bewildered from her long imprisonment, nervous and fearful of every sound. Behind them strode Adrian, with eager eyes and swelling heart--the Lady Valentine had smiled on him! But the lady's thoughts were not on the page. With every step to freedom, Count Conrad's blue eyes and merry laugh rose before her the more clearly, and she remembered that last time she had essayed escape, and he had near given her, for all he knew, his life. He was in Della Scala's camp. But, hasten as she might, Isotta dragged her on yet faster. Her eagerness was pitiful to see; Valentine looked down at her white face and trembling lips, and with a sudden impulse stooped and kissed her. It was still so early that the streets were empty, save at the gate where soldiers clustered, but they took small heed, for the three looked no unusual figures. "Now the passports," whispered Valentine. "Adrian must show them, but do ye stand ready, Isotta, to answer if they question. I dare not, lest they know my face. Remember, Adrian, an escort meets us half a league away, and 'tis a quiet village that we travel to." Isotta d'Este steadied herself against the wall, and grasping Valentine's hand, followed Adrian toward the soldiers on guard. "Stand to thy part now, Adrian," said Valentine; "remember 'tis our lives." A growing knot of men stood outside the guard-room; there seemed to be some great excitement; ringing orders, loud talk, increasing bustle. No one took heed of the three, nor even noticed them, and only after a delay at which Isotta's heart sickened could Adrian find an officer to whom to show the passports. He glanced them over hastily. "They seem to be in order," he said, then suddenly turned to the woman of the three: "What do ye do leaving Milan, mistress, when the country is in arms, with no escort save two boys?" She hesitated, and Valentine stepped forward quietly. "Our father is sick," she said, "and 'tis a pressing question of inheritance. Our kinsfolk promise us an escort." The officer shrugged his shoulders. "'Tis your own lives," he said. "Later in the day ye can go. Not now. There is an army coming, and the Duke in front of it." Valentine stood still and calm. "Our father is very ill," she said: "if we are not in time, we may be beggared. Our passports were signed by the Duke himself. We demand to go." But the officer had hardly heard her. A fresh detachment of soldiers had ridden up, and the man's thoughts and eyes were engaged in half a dozen places. Half mad, Isotta sprang forward, shaking off Valentine's restraining hand. "We must pass, we must through this moment," she cried. "Let us through, and we'll make it worth thy while." At the eagerness of her tone the officer turned, surprised. "Ye are very anxious," he said.