"Take those away," he said to a page, and pointed to a spray of white roses.
The boy obeyed, and glanced at his companions, wondering.
"Saint Hubert!" cried Conrad, with a sudden laugh. "You are full of whims as of old! How long must I wait for my death, at your good pleasure, my lord?"
The Duke turned his eyes on him.
"You are strangely foolish," he said, and hesitated, looking at Conrad with a moody face.
"Foolish indeed, or I had never been Visconti's friend!" retorted Conrad. "Foolish—or I had never trusted to this friendship. But call me also bold, my lord, to be here now, buying with my life the pleasure of saying so!"
"The impudent German!" murmured a lady in Visconti's ear. "Heaven has given your lordship even this—to crown your perfect triumph."
The Duke was still silent: he looked from Conrad to the crowd, shouting, throwing up their hats to see the procession pass, and then to the soldiers, wondering at this strange hesitation.
"Why did you come to Milan?" he asked at last, fingering the gold tassels on his sleeve, and speaking slowly.
"To save your unhappy sister," cried Conrad. "To try and kill you, Visconti!" And he struggled fiercely in the grip of his captors.