"To-morrow," he said, stopping before de Lana--"to-morrow I shall march from Milan, and I shall lay in ashes every village, every town that has favored Della Scala. I will let loose my soldiers to pay themselves from the wealth of Lombardy, and I will makes the Estes take their proud banner down from the walls of Novara, and hoist with their own hands the Viper!" "Mastino della Scala lies at Brescia," said de Lana, with an uplifting of his dark eyes. "His army has dwindled almost to a handful of picked Veronese; so a deserter who rode in tells me. He waits there for his wife." "And I," said Visconti, leaning against the table, "have given orders she is to be sent, de Lana. He has kept his word; I will keep mine. He has paid dearly enough--he shall have his wife. And to-morrow I march on Novara." "I have my orders, my lord." "I have nothing more to say, de Lana. To-morrow we leave Milan." The captain was turning in silence, when Visconti spoke again. "Della Scala is at Brescia, ye say? Then his wife will reach him to-morrow about the time we reach Novara." He paused and looked at de Lana steadily. "I have sent orders for her release and forwarding in all due privacy, but with sufficient state, and I have sent her back her wedding ring." De Lana only half understood him, but Visconti had small care for that. "The Estes--in Novara, de Lana--they are unsuspecting?" "How can they be otherwise, my lord? they are isolated----" "Waiting for succors from Della Scala doubtless! How many could their numbers be?" "Some thousand--no more. Della Scala called his Veronese out, my lord." "'Twill be almost too easy a victory," said Visconti, smiling. "And then, from Piedmont to the Apennines, Italy will be under my rule: and Della Scala--I wonder what will happen to Della Scala, de Lana?" "There is nothing but death for Della Scala," returned the soldier, standing at the door as if anxious to be gone. "Nothing is left for him but that, my lord." "Ah--you forget," said Visconti softly. "There is his price--his wife; there is always his wife." And repeating the words, as if to himself, Visconti motioned de Lana away, and entered the inner room. Giannotto was looking out of the window, and at Visconti's sudden entrance turned with a start. "Giannotto," said the Duke smoothly, "you will come with me on the march to-morrow--not for love of your company, my friend, but because I do not trust you. Still, I keep you." "There is now no Lady Valentine to outwit me in your absence with some of her brother's skill, my lord," replied the secretary meekly. Visconti made no reply, but viewed the secretary sullenly. His words had brought up unpleasant memories: his palace was free of his rebel sister, but it was free also of another one who should have been his wife.