Marjorie Bowen

“ I too will be happy, even as they are happy, though I am Visconti; I will be loved for myself alone; that fair-haired girl shall care for me as her companion for her lover,—life shall give me that as well! ”

“ Giannotto shrank back at Visconti's outburst, and made no answer.
But the Duke had forgotten him. He was but uttering his thoughts aloud.
"Five years ago," he said exultingly, "I rode outside the gates of Verona and challenged Della Scala to single combat. He sent his lackey out with a refusal, and in my heart I said: 'I will bring that man so low that life shall hold nothing so sweet to him as the thought of meeting me in single fight!' I have succeeded! Isotta d'Este looked past me and laughed, and I said, 'She shall live to feel her life within my hand.' In that also I have succeeded! ”

“ His own narrow escape of a moment since had tied up Giannotto's tongue.
"It will not be hard to discover," said Visconti. "Some one who did not bribe Luisa high enough."
"Mastino della Scala lives," he read again. He handed the parchment back to the secretary.
"Let the Lady Isotta have it," he said. "It may keep her alive. It looks to me that she may die, Giannotto, of the bad air and the confinement," and he smiled. "I would certainly not have her death. Give her the parchment." And he handed the parchment back, dismissing Giannotto with the gesture. ”

“ And three years ago, only three years ago, I stood within this very room, four lives between me and the throne of Milan—four lives, all crafty—and two young. But I—I the youngest, took my fate and theirs into my hand. ”

“ 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 paused outside Visconti's door, and the secretary smoothed a smile from his face, and, tapping slightly, entered with a silent, cringing movement.
The chamber was dark, although it was full noonday. Visconti had no love for the sunlight, and even the narrow windows were obscured and shrouded in dark purple. ”