He looked curiously at Carrara, who suddenly sat upright; the cold light fell on his face, his starting eyes looking straight into Visconti's.
"Thou art not human, Visconti," he whispered. "Yet, remember, even devils meet their punishment, and there will be the bitterest of all for such as thou art—failure—" And he fell back again among the flowers, where he lay, white and still.
Visconti looked back at the advancing rearguard, waved to it, pointing downward, and then before him to Milan, brilliant in the sunrise.
From its turrets still floated the banner of the Viper.
CHAPTER NINETEEN A SIGN FROM HEAVEN
The day had dawned fair and clear after the storm, and the early sunlight struck across the dark chamber that had held Visconti.
The stamped leather hung before the high window had been torn away and lay along the ground, but the room was unchanged save that the inner door was open, and near it, stuck into a crevice of the stone, a parchment hung.
Before this stood Count Conrad, with a face dazed.