Visconti bent nearer and she drank, putting it down half empty with a shudder and staring eyes. Visconti smiled, and brought the evil of his face still nearer. "Drink the rest," he said. "Drink it, Valentine." Still in silence she obeyed him. When the empty glass stood before him, Visconti turned away, taking his eyes from her with a laugh, and walked toward the door. Valentine's gaze followed him with a look of utter woe; still she said nothing, from her parted lips there came no sound. He looked back over his shoulder at her, standing there with her face toward him, with all expression gone, with unseeing eyes. "I will leave thee," he said savagely, "to await--the morning." She seemed roused by the sound of his voice, and stepped forward with a cry on her white lips. But the door closed heavily--the room was in darkness, or was it her sight failed her? Everything swam before her in a blackening mist; she grasped at the table and fell across it, senseless. The dawn was breaking, filling the room with a gray and ghostly light; the great curtains looked black and gloomy, and the corners of the room were filled with strange and moving shadows. Through an open window a cool breeze blew across Valentine's sick forehead: she opened her eyes. The empty glass met her gaze, the fallen chair was beside her: she looked at them strangely. She was still alive. "Gian's poison is slow," she said, and smiled to herself. After a time she rose and stumbled to the window. "When the sun rises I shall be dead, or perhaps I shall live till noon," she said to herself. She mounted the estrade and sat beside the open window, resting her head against the woodwork, singing to herself. Suddenly the whole gray sky flushed purple: the sun rose above the horizon. Valentine looked down into the garden, the sight seemed to awaken memories. "Hush!" She laid her finger on her mouth. "Hush, Conrad--if Gian hears us--hast thou velvet shoes on--hush! He treads warily--ah, but it is no use--he poisoned me! he poisoned me!" She rocked herself to and fro. "In a tall glass with white lines--it was not Gian--it was the Viper from the Standard--all green and silver--all green and silver--a coiling viper." She dropped her head forward, then raised it with trembling lips. "Conrad! come and save me!" Then she fell to laughing, whispering under her breath, counting on her fingers the hours she might have to live. "If to noon--how many?" The door opened, and she stopped her muttering, turning lackluster eyes toward it. "Good-morrow," said Visconti, standing with his back against it and looking at her keenly. "Good-morrow, Valentine." She looked at him and put the hair back from her face. "I thought I saw Count Conrad walking in the garden: I would have called him up to see me die--how long will it be?"