"The poor boy!" moaned Isotta, hanging half lifeless upon Valentine's arm. "Unhappy boy—they will kill him!"
Valentine looked at her with scorn.
"Canst thou think of a page now?" she cried. "Think of Della Scala. Quick!"
But the door would not yield, and while Agnolo struggled with the spring, a crash was heard, a cry, the ring of armor and the tramp of feet.
"The door is down," said Valentine. "We are lost."
"I cannot move the spring," cried Agnolo.
"Quick! quick!" shrieked Graziosa, but even as she spoke, the chamber door burst open and a man stepped in; there were others at his heels, but he entered alone.
Agnolo, starting back, dropped his concealments into place and trembled for his secret and these poor folk who had not escaped Visconti.
The man who entered was in black, it was all that could be seen in the dark, disordered chamber, but Valentine needed no light to tell her who it was. Isotta sank to the ground, shrieking wildly.
"Oh, father, father!" cried Graziosa, agonized, "save them!"