"Heaven save Milan!" he gasped. "Verona has fallen!"
* * * * *
The shouts and clatter from the courtyard had penetrated faintly to the banqueting hall, and Visconti paused a moment, listening.
Valentine listened too, and thought of Conrad.
But the noises died away, and Visconti turned to the Duke of Orleans with a laugh.
"My soldiers revel in your honor," he said, "and we will drink my sister's health, my lord."
Valentine's breast heaved. Who was he, to dare to sacrifice her to his pride and greed? She would not suffer it. Was she not also a Visconti?
As in a dream she heard her health drunk; as in a dream she saw the Duke of Orleans' foolish look turned toward her in vacant admiration; then suddenly, with a start, she noticed Giannotto's crafty face. Valentine's eyes blazed with sudden purpose. She looked down toward the entrance, and saw, between the curtains, white faces peering and figures half-thrust forward.
"The Duke of Orleans!" cried Visconti, and the guests again rose. Valentine rose also, with inspired eyes and crimsoned cheeks.