But Mastino della Scala's object was not to lose time in idle skirmishes. Brilliant success had fallen to his share, not one reverse had marred his short campaign, and it is not the policy of the victor to dally with time, rather to seize the chances each day offers, while yet fortune smiles on him. But well Della Scala knew that neither honor, nor pity, nor shame, but fear alone, would restrain Gian Maria Visconti from venting his hatred on Isotta d'Este. Still, he kept up a stout heart. Visconti dare not! To make assurance doubly sure, he used all his influence at the court of Rome to procure the aid of the Church against the Duke of Milan. Many a time had he rendered powerful help to the Pope, and, as his present position stood, might do so yet again; and the result of his appeal was a grave embassy from the Pope to Visconti, threatening him with excommunication and the sword of the Church should he dare to touch Isotta d'Este. For the first, Visconti cared little; twice had the Church thrown him out, and each time he had laughed at it and emerged triumphant; but now his position was more perilous than it had ever been since he mounted the throne of Milan, and he dare not treat this mandate of the Church as he had done the others. The Pope's temporal power too was great; were that once turned against him, even with the Empire's aid he could hardly stand; so Visconti answered them with fair words, pledging his honor for the Duchess of Verona's life. One bright summer morning, Visconti sat at the open window of his palace, thinking. At the other end of the room the Duke d'Orleans and Tisio were playing at chess; between these two, during the Duke's enforced stay in Milan, a friendship had sprung up, and Visconti, weary of his foolish guest, was well pleased a foolish brother should take him off his hands. The Frenchman was prepared at once to carry out the contract, marry Valentine, and depart for France, but Visconti's pride would not permit. The Duke d'Orleans had witnessed a reverse, he should behold a triumph. Valentine should leave Italy as befitted his sister, not fly from it as a fugitive; and the French prince, who in a few weeks had yielded to Gian's subtle influence and learned both to fear and obey Visconti, assented meekly to delay, and whiled away the time as best he might. Visconti sat so motionless and silent that the chess-players were forgetful of his presence, and their voices rose high. "My move," said Tisio gleefully. "See, the rook take your knight." "Your rook could take my knight," returned d'Orleans, "if it were your move, but as it is mine----" "You are not watching the game," was the angry rejoinder. "Your pardon, _my_ move," said the Frenchman calmly, and, with a smile on his vacant face, he swept up one of Tisio's men. "My move--and--mate, M'sieu." With a cry of childish rage, Tisio snatched at the board, spilling the men onto the floor.