He lowered his sword and kissed the hilt, then turning in his saddle to the men who had followed him as their new leader: "Have I not led you well, Paduans," he cried, "safe into the fairest city of Lombardy? Do you repent you of following a Visconti through the proud gates of Milan--Milan that I have made more beautiful than Ravenna, and stronger than Rome? I am your leader now, knights of Padua, and Gian Visconti never yet led to aught but victory or turned against a foe he did not crush! Once already have I trampled Della Scala to the dust, and ridden through nine wide cities of his, and spoiled his palaces to pay my soldiers, with pay that men would die to win! "I do not pay with ducats, Paduans, or measure my rewards with coin; follow me, and I will give you cities for your plunder, and nobles to hold for ransom. Like to the thunder will I circle Lombardy, and city after city shall surrender me its keys, and the meanest soldier in my train shall gain him fame and riches from my spreading greatness such as kings might envy! Now, who but a faint heart would follow Della Scala, who lost into my hands his very wife? So long as there is a Visconti, he rules in Italy!" Shout after shout, deafening, triumphant, greeted his words, the very air filled with the spirit of victory, the madness of triumph, the glamour of gold, the flash of scarlet, the high glitter of spears, that waved to and fro, the mad plunging of a thousand horses blinded with the dazzle of the sun; and from the throats of the thronging army, from the throats of the thronging citizens, one wild cry arose: "Visconti! Visconti! San' Apollinare! Visconti and Milan! The Duke rides the city!" CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO THE SECRET PASSAGE Standing on the steps of the old castle, Della Scala looked down on his diminished army; at least they were purged of traitors, he thought grimly; what remained were Veronese, and true. At the news of Carrara's treachery, d'Este had marched aside to Mantua, whither Vincenzo had been sent. The sun was dazzling down, a glory of gold, sparkling on the still wet leaves, and the brilliant colors of the pennons and banners that floated above the tents. Della Scala greeted Ligozzi and his son. Tomaso would have spoken eagerly, but his father hushed him. "The news is most important, my lord," he said, "best tell it you in private." Then, unable to restrain himself, he added in a whisper: "Oh, the saints and angels be praised, I think we have Milan!" Mastino della Scala, as he led the way back to the castle, trembled, almost with awe. It was a sign from heaven. As they gained the chamber, and Ligozzi closed the door, Tomaso burst out into his tale, half-crazy with delight. "It seems you have success," said Mastino quietly. But he seated himself at the extemporized table, and with his hand shaded his face; it was almost more than he could bear.