The brief audience he accorded was long over. Visconti had no friends; they who must sought him in the morning in the audience-room. For the rest, like the others of his tainted race, he lived alone.

He paused outside Visconti's door, and the secretary smoothed a smile from his face, and, tapping lightly, 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.

The walls were panelled in carved wood, but, apart from the stiff chairs, the sole furniture of the apartment was a long low chest, set open, and showing silver goblets and curious bottles and glasses twisted into strange shapes, and coloured. At the farther end were two doors close together, and between them sat Visconti, huddled up against the wall, gazing at the floor with strained, wide-open eyes.

Giannotto, entering softly, noticed in his hand a bracelet, fashioned as a snake, emerald green, of striking workmanship.

'A messenger from the Bologna embassy, my lord,' he said, closing the door behind him, 'has entreated me to ask thy attention for them.'

Visconti looked up quickly, and put out of sight the bracelet with a snap of anger.

'What, do the Bolognese trouble me?' he said fiercely.

'They only follow the example of the Pavians, my lord,' returned the secretary smoothly. 'They would have thy mediation between the rival factions in their state.'

'My mediation! Pavia asked it, as thou say's; and so did Bergamo; yet do the twain who then appealed, to me reign in either city now? The Bolognese are foolish,' said Visconti.

Giannotto shrugged his shoulders. 'That need not trouble thee, my lord. Bologna is a wealthy town. Thy lordship will think of it?'

The secretary's eyes were on the ground. Gian Galeazzo slipped his bracelet into his doublet and rose.

'Aye, I will think of it,' he said, 'but for the moment there are more precious things to do even than using the Bolognese against themselves.'

Giannotto waited. The Duke paced to and fro a moment, then broke into the subject next his heart.

'Thinkest thou della Scala will outwit me?' he said eagerly. 'Thinkest thou that if he do reach Ferrara he will rouse the Estes to action?'

'He had two good hours' start,' returned Giannotto, 'and the road to Ferrara offers many chances.'

'And those men—who let him escape them? Do they still live?'

'Aye, my lord. They are valuable. It is enough that Alberic da Salluzzo has been lost to us—'

'They shall yet hang for it,' said Visconti.

With rapid steps he returned to his seat, flung himself into it, clutching the arms with vice-like grip.

'He cannot do anything, Giannotto,' he said. 'He cannot rouse the Estes—against me! No; when della Scala ruled nine cities, and his revenue was equalled only by the kings of France—I stripped him, I routed him. And now!' he smiled and his eyes widened, 'he is a beggar. Perhaps it is not so ill that he lives to know it. It is a better revenge than any I could have devised, della Scala a beggar, a hanger-on at his kinsman's court, deafening his ears with unwelcome prayers, sinking into contempt before the people who once owned him lord!'

Giannotto was silent. He could not imagine Mastino della Scala a beggar at any prince's court.

But Visconti, blinded and absorbed by hatred, continued unheedingly:

'Carrara also, the Duke of Padua, is too necessary to the Estes. They cannot stand without him. Will he, thinkest thou, ever be won over to side with Mastino? No, Giannotto, I do not fear him. Let della Scala live robbed of all—and with Count Conrad as an ally!'

'Shall we then dismiss him, my lord?' ventured Giannotto smoothly; 'he who is not worth fearing is not worth considering.' He seated himself at the low table as he spoke, his watchful eyes on Visconti, and drew some papers from the flat bag at his side.

The Duke returned no answer. In truth he heard not what was said, but leaned back in his chair and fell to thinking. The secretary, looking at his brooding face, shuddered a little at what his master's thoughts might be. He wondered also as to that green bracelet Visconti had concealed.

The silence grew oppressive, and Giannotto moved uneasily. He loved not to sit alone with Visconti when he fell into these musings.

The Duke roused himself.

'Ah,' he said, breaking suddenly into a passion of declaim. 'A god can do no more than say, "I have succeeded—in all I have undertaken, I have succeeded!" And I can say as much. I have succeeded. I looked on life and took from it what I wanted, the fairest and the finest things that offered; and the price—others paid it. Truly, I have succeeded!'

Giannotto shrank back at Visconti's outburst, and made no answer.

But the Duke had forgotten him.