"Fool or devil?" Carrara was still wondering, and, looking at Visconti's face, he almost thought him a fool.
"You and I," cried Visconti, with a sudden change, "together, Carrara! Lords of Lombardy!"
And he struck his horse into a gallop so unexpectedly that Carrara had difficulty to keep abreast with him.
"I have been so long away!" he cried. "Haste! I long to be in my city again. Valentine—and others—will be grieving. Haste!"
And he still urged his horse.
Carrara, galloping at his side, suddenly reeled in the saddle, with a cry of anguish.
"Faster!" cried Visconti. "Faster!"
With an effort Carrara kept his horse to the pace, but his face was deathly, his lips set. Visconti never looked at him; his gaze was toward Milan and the sunrise.
Suddenly Carrara cried aloud. "Not so fast, Visconti, not so fast!"