"Thou hast strangely lost thy courage," returned her brother. "What is there in drinking this wine?"
She was at his feet, clinging to him, imploring.
"Let me live till morning!" she pleaded. "Do not kill me here—in this dark chamber. Oh! I cannot die here, I cannot!"
Visconti looked at her calmly.
"Graziosa died not in a fairer place, she died lonely and alone," he said. "Thou wilt drink this." He put out his hand and drew the glass nearer. "Come, thou wilt drink this."
"I am so young," sobbed Valentine. "Think, Gian; I am so young, Gian!"
"Graziosa was no older," he said.
She clung to his hand in agony, beseeching him, calling on him, wildly trying to move him to let her live until the morning—only until morning!
"Graziosa died after the sun had set," said Visconti. "Drink the wine, nor keep me here so long. Thou hast often wished to escape—where is thy courage gone, not to take this chance?"
"But not to die like this—not like this—give me a priest!"