"Count Conrad is in Milan!" was Valentine's answer to herself; and to Costanza she said, coldly, "Do not fear for me. I am too valuable to be meddled with. Even a Visconti would not dare to slay his sister before the Frenchman's eyes." They entered the courtyard in silence, the soldiers forming up close around her. The cavalcade had ridden slowly, and there was no trace of Graziosa's arrival. The palace seemed quiet. Valentine dismounted as usual, and was mounting the entrance steps when de Lana advanced. "I have a painful duty to discharge, Princess," he said. "You are my prisoner." Valentine went white: she had not expected this so swiftly. "The Lady Graziosa is in danger of her life," continued de Lana. "'Tis no fault of mine," said Valentine. "What do you want with me?" Costanza clung to her, weeping loudly. "Have done!" said the soldier, sternly. "Follow behind your lady. You will follow me, Princess." "Seeing I cannot help it," retorted Valentine, with flaming cheeks. "Where is my brother? Where is the Duke d'Orleans?" She looked round once; from somewhere there stepped forward two of de Lana's men and took their places at her side. She moved up the stair, Costanza with her, weeping with fear. The corridors were empty, save for the soldiers at their posts. De Lana opened the door of the Duke's apartments and stood aside for her to enter, but Valentine shrank back. "'Tis the Duke's orders," said de Lana, and he moved Costanza back. "You will enter alone." Then Valentine summoned up her courage, and when she had passed the door, de Lana followed and stood beside it. Visconti was at the table, behind him Giannotto, and at her entrance he raised such a white, distorted face of fury, that Valentine quailed and sank back against the wall. "Ah!" said Visconti, "I have it in my mind to kill you, my sister. I have it in my mind to give myself that pleasure--to kill you." He rose as he spoke, and Giannotto drew farther away from him, glancing at Valentine with a white amazement; the Duke was bordering on frenzy. "Oh," cried Visconti again, "so you have no more wits than Tisio: you think, because it suited me that you should wed with d'Orleans, that you are free to flout me at your will!" "Now be silent," breathed de Lana to Valentine, who leaned against the wall beside him. "You!" said Visconti, stopping before her. "You!--to meddle with me--let me lift my finger and I can bring you lower than any slave in Milan!" "Silence!" breathed de Lana again. But Valentine had too much of her brother's own spirit. The madness of the Visconti rose into her eyes; she straightened herself and moved forward defiantly. "Aye, or you can kill me," she said, "as you have the others; but you cannot make me humble before your wife out of the streets." Visconti stood stock still, and Giannotto, glancing at de Lana, wondered if she were to be murdered before their eyes.