Marjorie Bowen

“ The white agonized face of Isotta rose before him, the fierce rebellious hate that marred Valentine Visconti's beauty, and Visconti's own expression as he stooped to mock a woman in his power; the gallant heart of the little painter throbbed with wrath and honest fury against the tyrant who played with hearts, who thought the offer of a crown he had usurped atoned for crimes as black as hell. ”

“ There was no tinge of greatness in Graziosa's soul; she would have gone through life, if unmolested, merry, gentle, sweetness and happiness itself, content to always stand aside for others, eager to do little kindnesses that came within her compass, never tempted because never seeing the temptation, happy in utter simplicity and ignorance; but a great moment found her wanting, a crisis she could not face; as she tried to think, right and wrong grew strangely confused. She only knew she loved Visconti, and that he was in danger. ”

“ Agnolo Vistarnini stood in front of the secret door, with shining eyes. The spring had just slipped back behind Tomaso, the last arrangements had been made; to-night Della Scala should enter Milan—and he, Agnolo, would be the means.
Agnolo looked across the courtyard now in shadow to where a soldier kept his guard. The guard was the Duke's orders, and to the painter's face the soldiery showed all respect; yet well Agnolo knew they laughed at Visconti's whim, and shrugged their shoulders at the pale-faced girl who was to be Duchess of Milan. ”