"Surely it is still early, even for St. Joseph?" said Agnolo. Ambrogio glanced out into the dusky street, where several gayly attired horsemen were riding. "The Prior begged my early return," he said. "And so farewell, my father, for a little while, farewell!" "Well, if it must be, it must," said Vistarnini cheerfully, "thou wilt never fail for lack of industry. Still, Graziosa, even if thy lover goes, there is something left to amuse us. This evening the nobles ride in to attend the feast Visconti gives to-night to the French Duke. 'Twill be a noble feast, yet I doubt if the Lady Valentine be as happy as thou art, Graziosa." But his daughter returned no answer, for she was not there, but at the top of the dark stairway: she was saying farewell to her betrothed; and when Agnolo turned from the window, she was leaning on his arm across the courtyard, for a last word at the gate. "When comest thou again?" she whispered. "Thy father jeers me for my industry, yet heaven knows what it costs me to leave thee, sweet. In two days' time I will again be with thee." They were at the door, but still he lingered, gazing on her gentle face. "Farewell," he said at last, with a smile. "For two days, my beautiful Graziosa." He took her face between his hands and kissed her. "Farewell," she smiled, and with a sudden effort he was gone. But once well clear of the house, Graziosa's lover paused as if undecided, then drew his hood, and wrapped himself closely in his mantle and walked rapidly into the city, keeping close to the wall. After some time he drew the bandage from his hand and flung it aside. His left hand was as whole as his right. Again he walked on rapidly, until, at the corner of a quiet street, a man with bent shoulders and dressed in black stepped from the shadow of a building. It was Giannotto. "News, Giannotto?" asked Graziosa's lover in a whisper. "I am waiting for you, my lord, to tell you they are growing impatient. Your absence is causing surprise." Two horsemen passed, and Ambrogio drew his mantle closer around him. "No one has seen thee waiting here?" he asked. "No, my lord, I am too careful." "'Tis well," said the other. "Lead on toward the palace, Giannotto. I will follow." CHAPTER THIRTEEN VALENTINE VISCONTI'S TOAST The Visconti palace was brilliant with lights and gay with the hum of voices. Splendidly attired, in all that wealth or taste could desire, the French guests seemed to diffuse some of their own light-hearted gayety over the somber abode of the Visconti.