"Take it then," said Luisa with a cry of vexation. "But I will repay thee, Giannotto."
She thrust into his hands a piece of parchment.
"It was left with me by the Lady Valentine to give Isotta d'Este. Now, make what else of it thou canst," and Luisa shuffled past him, terror overmastering greed. To be locked within that chamber to wait the Visconti was what she had not heart for. Moreover, she could tell the Duke another time—and he would listen—how Giannotto had forestalled her.
She shuffled off, and Giannotto in triumph re-entered the chamber. He read the parchment, one of many: "Della Scala lives."
"And the Lady Valentine conveys it to Isotta d'Este's prison," mused Giannotto. "Now, shall I tell my lord that piece of news or no?"
He regarded the two doors, between which Visconti's chair was set, and gently tried them: one was locked, the other opened to the touch. He dared investigate no further, and returning to his chair, sat down to wait. The minutes dragged on, and he fumed with impatience.
Visconti's laboratory was not altogether a secret place. Giannotto had helped him in his experiments; there was an assistant who tended the fires. But no one followed the Duke into it unbidden.
But, as time went on, Giannotto debated with himself that he would venture. Visconti was long. What was he doing? It was an opportunity to spy. If caught, the secretary could plead anxiety as to his master's safety. Summoning his courage, Giannotto rose and crept to the unlocked door and softly pushed it back.
It opened on a flight of stairs, black marble, carpeted in gold, the high walls hung with tapestry in red.