"What frightened her? Those other faces," Visconti whispered to himself, then roused himself with a harsh laugh. "Will Carrara come?" He fixed his eyes on the lamp, then on the door. And presently he heard the subdued bustle of arrival, the great door clang; the ringing answers of the soldiers; then outside his own door hushed and respectful voices--the door opened, shut, and Visconti saw his visitor. A man, black-eyed, florid, richly dressed in velvet, well armed, unattended, and carrying the castle keys--Giacomo Carrara. He stood in amazement, and shrank back half-afraid, though the guard had warned him. "Visconti!" he cried. "What has happened?" The sickly light of the lantern showed him a white, haggard face, with wild, bloodshot eyes, the hair hanging lank and damp about its forehead, the plain doublet gashed and torn, hands and face smeared with blood. But, at sight of the man he hoped to buy, Visconti's face took on a more human look. "You have seen my messenger?" "Hush!" and Giacomo looked around cautiously. "Yes, I have seen him, and dispatched my answer." "My offer suits you?" said Visconti grimly. "It suited me, Visconti, till just now," returned the other. "It suited me to such purpose that my men even now await my orders to desert to Milan." "Ah!" Visconti said. "And what of it now?" he added, looking around again, the old subduing spirit in his glance. "What of it? It shall still be done, only," Carrara smiled, "there is an unforeseen addition to the bargain. Not only do you need my men, Visconti; I think, as well, you need your liberty." "And so the price is higher. Is that what you would say? Unloose my arm. It shall not be forgotten in the bribe," he sneered. Carrara advanced and undid the rope in silence. He knew Visconti was unarmed. Visconti gasped with relief as the torture was removed. "And now," he said, taking at once the mastery, "how do matters stand between us? Be wary; be brief." Rapidly Giacomo told him how, with the desertion, half Mastino's army would be gone; how Padua was to be given into the hands of Visconti's generals, and how Count Conrad played at chess. Visconti hated the smooth traitor who was waiting to drive a hard bargain with his necessity--and his freed hand went to his doublet: the turquoise gloves had not been lost. "And now, your terms?" he said. The Duke of Padua hesitated a moment--even with Visconti in his power he hesitated. "Those you refused two years ago," he said. "When we warred with Pavia." Visconti remembered. Two years ago, when he had been by half not so great as he stood now, he had refused them in scorn--they meant half his dominions--they would place Carrara on a level with himself. "Well?" he said, "and if I refuse?" "A prisoner does not refuse--his liberty," smiled Giacomo. He could afford to smile. Visconti controlled himself. "And if I accept--you take my word, all I have to give--a prisoner's word?"