“Adimari and the Medici have plotted the downfall of thine authority,” replied the princess. “This night; nay, this very moment their plans will be matured. The throngs are now gathering which will hurl thee from thy seat, and perchance, deprive thee of thy life.”
“From whence thine information?” demanded the duke.
“From the Count Ugolino.”
The face of the duke became purple with rage. His hands shook like the aspen, and his voice was hoarse as the growl of the enraged lion.
“Ugolino!” he exclaimed. “Ha! harlot! Hast thou dared again to discourse with that bloody villain? and this night? Thou diest for it, wert thou thrice my sister!”
Gualtieri drew his dagger, and was about to rush upon his sister, when the hurried tread of men and the sound of voices arrested his arm. The dagger fell from his hand. A door in the corridor flew violently open, and Cerettieri Visdomini, followed by three or four soldiers, stood before him. The face of Visdomini was pale as marble, and a rivulet of blood, trickling from a deep wound in his forehead, gave a ghastly expression to his countenance. His dress was disordered through haste and fright, and in his hand he bore a broken rapier.
“How now, Cerettieri?” shouted the duke, while Rosabelle, taking advantage of the confusion, escaped from the apartment.
“All is confirmed,” replied Visdomini, in a trembling voice. “The rabble have gained head. Every thing is in disorder. Your banners are torn down, and dragged through the filth of the slaughter-houses. The cross-gules floats with the red lily every where triumphant. Rally your train, my lord, and close the palace gates, before the rebels are upon you.”
“Where is that traitorous dog, Leonardo Adimari? Hast not arrested him?”
“I did so. He has been rescued, and I bear nothing from Adimari, save this sword-cut.”