He put the little coronet back and locked the casket. "How comest thou to be alone, Tisio? Where is thy page?" As he spoke he returned the casket to the bureau. Tisio, in eager curiosity, looked over his shoulders into the open drawer. There lay the turquoise-colored gloves. "Oh!" cried Tisio joyously. "The beautiful, beautiful gloves!" And before Gian could stop him, he had caught them up. Visconti snatched them from him; at the same moment came a clamoring upon the door. It was Giannotto knocking lustily. "Now, who beats down the door?" cried the Duke, and waiting for no further summons, Giannotto entered. The Duke, starting, thrust the turquoise gloves into his doublet. "What is it now, Giannotto? Did I not say that I was coming?" "My lord, it presses. De Lana would see you--there has been fierce fighting outside the walls--the army clamors for you----" "Lead the way," said Visconti shortly; and, preceded by his secretary, he returned hastily toward his council chamber. The anteroom, brilliant in pink stone and gold, the great hall itself, flaring in painted walls and dazzling stained-glass windows, were full of people--courtiers, soldiers, artists, and craftsmen. Gian Visconti kept neither the open court nor the free table of his father; he was neither lavish in his hospitality, save when it suited his own ends, nor liberal in his rewards; still he loved, encouraged, and jealously exacted the homage of all artists. Woe be to the painter or poet who took his painting or poetry to any other in Milan save the Duke himself! There were many there to-day, eager-eyed among the throng, among them the German architect of the glorious new church; but to-day Visconti passed unheeding through them. The city was at war. He stepped into the council chamber unannounced, followed solely by Giannotto. The great gilt ornate room was full of Milanese and foreigners, allies or guests of Visconti. "You look grave, my lords," cried Visconti, his gray eyes wide, "and fearful. I had not thought you of so poor a courage. Yet, since you are so faint of heart, I come to tell you from my own lips that I ride against Verona to-day! Have you forgotten, my lords, that a Visconti still rules Milan?" There was no answer from the splendid throng; they had complained much of late--but not to his face. "Have you no thanks for so much comfort?" laughed Visconti. "Let all those who may care to follow make them ready, and let those who care not--stay to make us welcome from a victory. Come, De Lana." He turned away with his hand on his favorite captain's arm. To a man the crowded assembly flocked to follow. "Ah!" Visconti turned again. "A crushed foe is scarcely to be feared! Have I not set my standard in the market-place of Verona? Have I not dragged a hostage from Della Scala's palace? Lords of Milan, am I not Visconti?" With one voice they broke into loud shouts. "To the city walls! to the city walls! Down with Della Scala! To the city walls!"