"Now I have somewhat to show thee. This is the architect of my new church, which shall be the wonder of Italy. Follow me, messer." And he led the way into the entrance-hall.
It was low and wide, the walls covered with frescoes, the floor red sandstone, the windows opening on to the terrace.
In the middle stood a gilt stucco table, and to this Visconti drew a chair and bade Graziosa seat herself.
"Here is what I will make of Milan, sweet, when the war is ended!" he said, as the architect unrolled and arranged his drawings.
"And will that be soon?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Aye, I hope so," laughed the Duke. "Mastino della Scala grows weaker day by day—I have Bassano, and shall have Reggio. He has lost his wits as well as his fortresses, for he bids me to a single combat: all to stand or fall by our own swords. He has his answer, and I have his wife. Now, look at these, Graziosa——" and he took the drawings from the architect and spread them on the table.
"My new church," he said. "The plans, my well-beloved."
And he looked eagerly at Graziosa.
"Indeed, my lord, I do not understand them—it is no church, surely?" And she raised a sweet, bewildered face.