As he spoke, a loud knocking was heard at the gate.
“What means this visit?” said Bonnivet.
“I know not,” replied the countess, “unless your arrival at Milan has been discovered.”
“That is impossible. The guard at the Porta Romana allowed me to pass without question, on seeing my safe-conduct.”
“There are spies in your camp, and one of them may have brought information of your departure,” said Beata. “But the duke must not find you here. Conceal yourself,” she added, opening the door of a closet, “and do not venture forth till I release you.”
Scarcely had Bonnivet entered this hiding-place when the Duke of Milan, accompanied by a guard, entered the saloon.
“You must excuse me if I appear abrupt, countess,” he said, glancing suspiciously round the room. “My business does not admit of ceremony. You will believe that I have not come hither on any idle errand.”
“I am curious to learn the meaning of your highness's visit,” remarked Beata, vainly endeavouring to conceal her agitation.
“I will not keep you in suspense, madame,” replied Sforza. “Where is the cavalier who entered the palace not half an hour ago, and was shown into this room by your attendant, Eufemia?”
“He is lost!” mentally ejaculated the countess, trembling and not knowing what answer to make.