"Truly, the honor is more, I think, than she can bear," and Agnolo bowed to the ground. "I have won a wife for myself--a wife who loves me for myself alone." "Ah, she loves thee for what thou art not," cried Valentine aloud. But Visconti took no heed of her. "Think of thy daughter as a precious charge, Agnolo," he continued. "Meanwhile I leave one of my captains here on guard. That last attack on thee and thine came near costing me too dear." "My daughter----" began the painter, but Visconti interrupted him: "Thy daughter will be my wife, painter; remember it, and heed her safety. And thou, Valentine, come with me, and I will tell thee in private how Count Conrad's folly lost Della Scala thy dear brother, and gave me the day--and an army." He turned to go; Agnolo made an impulsive movement forward, but checked himself. "Tell Graziosa," said Visconti, "she is my duchess on the day my sister weds the Duke d'Orleans." Visconti crossed the courtyard; the soldiers closed around him and his captive; Agnolo sprang forward, and drawing the little dagger he wore, hurled it after him. It fell unheard, unseen, amid the trampling feet. "Your hand--hurts me," gasped Valentine, suddenly very white and trembling. A soldier was pulling Adrian's dead body from the gate to allow of the Duke's passing, and she, dragged in his grasp, had almost stepped on him. This was what it had ended in--Adrian had flung away his life for nothing. Visconti's voice broke upon her. "Take this cloak to hide thy garb; I could not have Milan see thee thus--even if thou hast lost all shame." A ring of soldiers kept the crowd back, all the crowd the narrow streets permitted. The high morning sun sparkled on their halberds, spears, and armor; the dazzle of scarlet and gold from their trappings was blinding in its confusion, and Valentine hid her eyes--from that and the dead boy's face. "A Visconti! A Visconti!" came the shout. The horses of the Paduans were champing impatiently, Visconti's charger reared between its holders-in. "Now, where is my lord?" cried de Lana, riding up breathless through the noise and glitter--"I have been outwitted----" "Hush!" said Visconti softly. "I am here, de Lana,--and so is she who outwitted thee," and he pointed to the cloaked figure beside him. "Take her ahead in secrecy, and swiftly, to the palace." The command and the movement were lost in the confusion. The horsemen were forming up behind Visconti, the walls and street crowded; from every distant window and house-top shouting spectators gazed on the gorgeous scene below. Visconti drew his sword, and held its glittering cross high up against the sapphire sky. "Now glory be to God, His angels, and San' Apollinare, my patron saint, that I am entered into my city again; and for my most miraculous escape, there shall be an altar of jasper and serpentine in the Lord's new church--and therein hear my vow!"