Marjorie Bowen

“ And he fixed his eyes on Giacomo with a strange expression.
"When we shall enter Milan," corrected Carrara. "The sun will be faintly high: these marches are toilsome." And he glanced down proudly at the beautiful gauntlets on his hands, calculating what the pearls and turquoises might be worth, picked off, and vain at having outwitted Visconti. ”

“ I shall ride into Milan with thy army, thy towns, and thy sword; and I have bought them—with a pair of turquoise gloves."
He looked curiously at Carrara, who suddenly sat upright; the cold light fell on his face, his starting eyes looking straight into Visconti's.
"Thou art not human, Visconti," he whispered. "Yet, remember, even devils meet their punishment, and there will be the bitterest of all for such as thou art—failure—" And he fell back again among the flowers, where he lay, white and still. ”

“ Day after day, since the world began, something in the mystery of the dawn is promised—something the sunset smiles to see unfulfilled—something men have been ever cheated of—something men will never know—the promise of the dawn!"
The road began now to be fringed with poplars, and in the faint light the colors of the wayside flowers were visible.
They rode awhile in silence. Carrara looked back at the small rearguard in the distance, and before him along the road to his army blackening the plain, and then again at Visconti. ”