"Della Scala is at Brescia, ye say? Then his wife will reach him to-morrow about the time we reach Novara." He paused and looked at de Lana steadily. "I have sent orders for her release and forwarding in all due privacy, but with sufficient state, and I have sent her back her wedding ring."
De Lana only half understood him, but Visconti had small care for that.
"The Estes—in Novara, de Lana—they are unsuspecting?"
"How can they be otherwise, my lord? they are isolated——"
"Waiting for succors from Della Scala doubtless! How many could their numbers be?"
"Some thousand—no more. Della Scala called his Veronese out, my lord."
"'Twill be almost too easy a victory," said Visconti, smiling. "And then, from Piedmont to the Apennines, Italy will be under my rule: and Della Scala—I wonder what will happen to Della Scala, de Lana?"
"There is nothing but death for Della Scala," returned the soldier, standing at the door as if anxious to be gone. "Nothing is left for him but that, my lord."
"Ah—you forget," said Visconti softly. "There is his price—his wife; there is always his wife." And repeating the words, as if to himself, Visconti motioned de Lana away, and entered the inner room.
Giannotto was looking out of the window, and at Visconti's sudden entrance turned with a start.