'I have come to prefer peace, if you must know, if you must have reason for all things. Besides, the court is not gay these days. And I am reminded there of what it might be; of what you might make it if you had a spark of real spirit. There's not one of them, not Buonterzo, nor Pandolfo, nor dal Verme, nor Appiano, who would not be Duke by now if he had the chance accorded to you by the people's love.' Bellarion marvelled to see him still curb himself before this display of shameless cupidity. 'The people's love is mine, Bice, because the people believe me to be honest and loyal. That faith would leave them the moment I became a usurper, and I should have to rule by terror, with an iron hand, as --' 'So that you ruled ...' she was interrupting him, when he swept on: 'I should be as detested as is Gian Maria to-day. I should have wars on my hands on every side, and the duchy would become a parade ground.' 'It was so in Gian Galeazzo's early days. Yet upon that he built the greatness of Milan and his own. A nation prospers by victorious war.' 'To-day Milan is impoverished. Gian Maria's misrule has brought her down. However you squeeze her citizens, you cannot make them yield what they lack, the gold that will hire and furnish troops to defend her from a general attack. But for that, would Pandolfo and Buonterzo and the others have dared what they have dared? I have made you Countess of Biandrate, my lady, and you'll rest content with that. My duty is to the son of the man to whom I owe all that I have.' 'Until that same son hires some one to murder you. What loyalty does he give you in return? How often has he not tried to shake you from the saddle?' 'I am not concerned so much with what he is as with what I am.' 'Shall I tell you what you are?' She leaned towards him, contempt and anger bringing ageing lines into her lovely white face. 'If it will ease you, lady, you may tell me what you think I am. A woman's breath will neither make nor unmake me.' 'A fool, Facino!' 'My patience gives proof of that, I think. Do you thank God for it.' And on that he wheeled and sauntered out of the long grey room. She sat huddled in the chair, her elbows on her knees, her dark blue eyes on the flames that leapt about the great sizzling logs. After a while she spoke. 'Bellarion!' There was no answer. She turned. The long, high-backed form on which he had sat over against the wall was vacant. The room was empty. She shrugged impatiently, and swung again to the fire. 'And he's a fool, too. A blind fool,' she informed the flames. It was dinner-time when they returned together. The table was spread, and the lackeys waited. 'When you have dined, madonna,' Facino quietly informed her, 'you will prepare to leave. We return to Milan to-day.' 'To-day!' There was dismay in her voice. 'Oh! You do this to vex me, to assert your mastership. You ...'