Even Giannotto's heart failed him, and he stayed near the entrance, abashed and afraid, but with a fear different from that with which he fawned upon Visconti. Visconti's moods and motives he could understand--to some extent they were his own, on his own level,--but this man--some things were beyond the Duke of Milan's secretary, and for the first time in his life he felt it. Mastino himself broke that hideous silence. He raised his head, and with a little affectionate movement Ligozzi laid his hand on his master's arm as if to strengthen him. "I have considered," said Della Scala, in a hard voice. He paused a moment, but a moment only. "I have considered, and my answer is: I will accept Visconti's terms--my wife against the towns." "Oh, dear lord!" breathed Ligozzi. It was the only sound; the Milanese were silent, almost as if they too winced to hear the words. Mastino rose, with defiance in his burning eyes. "I accept--every city in my hands, every soldier--all--against my wife--I accept Visconti's terms." Ligozzi's hand had dropped from his shoulder, the clink of metal was heard through the heavy silence, without a word he stepped forward and laid his sword on the table before the Prince, then turned toward the entrance. "Ligozzi!" cried Mastino, incredulous. "Not thou, Ligozzi--not thou, my friend!" He held out his hand imploringly, regardless of the eyes upon him. Ligozzi stopped and turned, answering Della Scala's wistful look by one of bitter scorn and pain. "I had that sword from an honorable Prince--I go to weep that I should have to return it to a traitor!" "Ligozzi!" Mastino staggered back, his extended, rejected hand fell against his side. "Thou might'st have spared me that before _these_--for the sake of the old days--Ligozzi--" he said, steadying himself. Ligozzi did not turn; with a hard face he walked across the tent--without a look back, without a word or a sign, he was gone. Mastino watched his only friend depart, with straining eyes, that then he covered for a moment as if to shut out what they had seen. But the next moment he turned proudly to the messengers. Giannotto was alone. The soldier, de Lana, had vanished. Mastino started forward with a cry, but the secretary interposed: "My lord," he said smoothly, "our duty is our duty. There is no harm intended, there shall no harm be done; but of what value is your consent to my Lord Visconti's terms, if your _friend_ should speak of it?" Mastino fell back. A swift beginning. "Your lady's safety, my lord," said Giannotto, "depends on your friend's silence. He has left his sword. There will be no bloodshed." There was a silence, then Mastino looked up and spoke hoarsely. "Begone! and take my answer to Visconti. I accept and will carry out his terms; my wife against the towns." "Only remember, my lord," and the secretary smoothed his hands together nervously, "any attempt on Milan, any movement on your part, and the offer is null and void and the Duchess dies."