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.
The entrance stairs of fine white marble were spread with a purple silk carpet, the golden balustrades intertwined with roses emitting their fragrance, and the long gallery opening from the stairway and lit by wide windows, deep set in the stone, showed the long, low balcony smothered in myrtles, lemons, citrons, oranges, and gorgeous flowers, scented and abundant, filling the corridors with the sense of summer and mingling their slender trails with the stiff folds of the rare and costly tapestries that covered the walls and were laid upon the floor.
At intervals stood statues, masterpieces of ancient art, faintly lit by the golden glimmer of the swinging lamps.
And all the stairs and corridors and gallery were alive and brilliant with the magnificent guests of the Visconti—lords and ladies, the finest the dismantled court of France could boast. Yet, used to splendors as they were, coming from the most refined court of Europe, the costly display made by an Italian usurper impressed them with wonder, almost with awe.
Tisio Visconti, most richly dressed and adorned with all his favorite jewels, mingled in the throng, gay and happy, forgetful of everything save the lights and the colors, the kindly respectful tones in which he was addressed, unheeding the silent page that followed him.
The wide, usually so somber, entrance of the palace stood open upon the street, and the red flare of torches, the gleam of richly-caparisoned horses, the bustle of pages and men-at-arms, were visible to the courtiers within, and blended city and palace in one splendor.
"I would the French were always here," cried Tisio, excitedly. "I love the palace to be light and gay."
The gay flutter of silk and satin, the elegant grace of the strangers, pleased him, and he smiled like a contented child. But suddenly all the light was struck out of his face.
"Gian," he said dully.
"The Duke!" the courtiers behind him took up the word, and the tattle of voices ceased.