Visconti advanced with a bitter smile. "Has the lesson tamed thee? It would have been reality, but ye are pledged to France. I would that I dare poison thee, thou tiger-cat, but thou art tamed!" Valentine face did not change. "Hush!" she said, leaning from the window. "He is back on the tower now--" she pointed to where the silver banner hung idle against the brightening sky. "What dost thou think? shall I sit and watch, lest he spy on us, Conrad?" Visconti looked at her. "Thou art tamed indeed," he said. "I am not ill-avenged." Valentine stepped down into the room, her tangled hair hanging about her, and grasped him by the arm. "I was waiting--" she whispered. "I feared he would come back before I was dead. Ah! and he did! Count Conrad could not keep him off; the Viper, green and silver; the Viper, he has poisoned me." And she sank onto the floor with a sudden scream, her hands before her eyes. "Thou art neither poisoned nor dying," said Visconti, roughly. "Call thy women, and--remember." She looked at him with vacant eyes. Visconti turned away. "She is not likely to forget, it seems," he thought. "Her spirit will not trouble my path more." Neither his nor anyone's. The brilliant, witty, and daring Valentine Visconti was to dare, to mock, to laugh no more; her high spirit was broken, her proud courage gone. From that fearful night she was timorous, shrinking, like a child, wandering and vacant--like Tisio, half-crazed. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE THE ORDEAL OF MASTINO DELLA SCALA "A secret embassy from Milan!" Mastino repeated the words slowly, and looked at Ligozzi who had brought them. "And to see me alone?" "With terms from Visconti--so they said," answered Ligozzi. "Terms of peace." "From Visconti!" Mastino looked out through the open entrance into the blinding summer day, and then back at Ligozzi. "I fear they come with no honorable terms--from Visconti victorious." "They would never dare come with dishonorable ones--to thee, my lord," returned Ligozzi. Mastino laughed bitterly. "Dare! He is Visconti--with near all Italy at his back--he knows no such words as shame or honor. And I must see his messengers," he added, after a pause. "I know no such words now as pride or refusal." Ligozzi turned, but hesitated at the entrance. "And--alone?" he asked. "They are from Visconti." "And may be skilful in dagger thrusts and poison," said Mastino. "Nay, that is not what I fear, Ligozzi." But he unstrapped his sword and laid it on the table in front of him. "All the same, I will have thee with me, Ligozzi. I see not why I should humor them too far--I shall have naught to say thou mayst not hear." Ligozzi left, and Mastino sat alone, his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. It was blazing hot, the very crown of summer, languid and golden, with a haze of purple sky beating down on the swooning trees; noon, the sun at its height, the stillness of great heat in the air.