"This is what Visconti offers, my lord," repeated the secretary smoothly: "Give up all the cities, forts, and soldiers under your command, and the Duke forthwith makes an honorable return to you of the Duchess he holds captive, giving you leave to hold Verona under fief to him, doing yearly homage for it--he garrisoning it. If, however, my lord, you refuse----" "If I refuse?" cried Della Scala, leaning forward. "If I refuse?" "Visconti's prisons are unwholesome; for some weeks the Duchess has pined; it is feared, without instant liberty----" Giannotto paused a moment, and lightly shrugged his shoulders. "In a word, my lord, if you refuse--the Duchess dies." A terrible silence fell, no one moved or spoke, the lazy flapping of the tent struggling on its cords was the only sound. Della Scala sat rigid, looking at Giannotto, all power of thought struck out of him. "Shall we take these terms to d'Este--shall we offer him his daughter for his towns?" said Giannotto softly. D'Este! D'Este was not the man to place his daughter before his states--Mastino knew it; Visconti knew it. "No! no!" he cried, with sudden vehemence, "I will." He put his hand to his forehead with a dazed expression and whispered something to himself. Ligozzi, standing erect behind his chair, touched him gently on the shoulder. "Send them away, my lord," he whispered. "Let them not remain here--send them away." "With a refusal?" Della Scala lifted his white face. "With a refusal?" he muttered stupidly. "With what else?" said Giorgio firmly. "With what else?" Giannotto moved a little nearer and spoke with a sickly smile. "Our answer may wait. The Duke of Milan gives a day in which my Lord of Verona may decide upon his answer." "Give them their answer now," whispered Ligozzi, eagerly. "Do not let them imagine for one moment that you hesitate." Mastino did not heed him; he sat as if frozen. "Leave me to--" the words died on his lips. "Leave me--to answer--I will give you my answer--anon." De Lana and Giannotto moved in silence to the far end of the tent. "Visconti is a fiend," said de Lana, with a gesture of revolt. "Santa Maria, I wish I had never seen this Della Scala. His face will haunt me." Giannotto smiled. "Thou hast not been in Visconti's service long," he said, "and what have these things to do with us?" "But this is inhuman," returned de Lana. "Della Scala hath a winning face. I might have been a better man if I had sold my sword to him." "This way, messers," said Ligozzi. "I will come to you presently." And the flap of the tent fell-to behind Visconti's messengers. Mastino sat, his head dropped into his hands. "My lord----" Ligozzi put his hand upon his master's arm. "My lord----" Mastino raised his head and looked at him; his face was distorted, his eyes unnaturally bright. "Give them their answer, my lord," said Ligozzi. "Every moment gives them a triumph. Send it now."