"I must go back far into the times past," he said; "I dare say you are well aware that the Viscontis once reigned as lords and dukes of Milan. Do not suppose, Leonora, that I am about to put forth any claim to that rich inheritance; for, though nearly allied to the ruling race, my branch of the family were already separated from the parent stem when the imperial bull was issued which conferred sovereignty on the branch that ended with Filippo Maria. That bull limited the succession strictly, and we had and have no claim. At the death of Filippo, the Milanese found still one spark of ancient spirit, and they declared themselves a republic. But republics have in them, unhappily, no seeds of durability. There is not strength and virtue enough in man to give them permanence. Rude nations may be strong and resolute enough to maintain such institutions in their youth; but art and luxury soften, and in softening enfeeble, so that men learn to love ease more than independence, pleasure better than freedom. A new dynasty was destined soon to succeed the old. The Viscontis were noble, of high race and long descent, connected with every sovereign house of Europe. But the son of a peasant was to gather their inheritance and wear their coronet. "There was a man born at Cotignola, in Romagna, named Sforza Attendolo, of very humble birth, but prodigious strength of body and extraordinary military genius. Famine drove him to seek food in the trade of war. He joined one of the great companies, rose by the force of genius and courage, and in the end became one of the two most famous condottieri in Italy. After a career of almost unexampled glory and success, he was drowned in swimming the Pescara, but his son Francesco succeeded to his command, and to more than his inheritance of military fame. He was, indeed, a great man; and so powerful did he become, that Filippo Maria Visconti promised him---to the illegitimate son of a Romagnese peasant--the hand of his only daughter to secure his services in his many wars. He hesitated long, it is true, to fulfil a promise which he felt to be degrading, but he was compelled to submit at length. With the aid of Francesco Sforza he was a great prince--without him he was nothing; and when he died, old and blind, he left his people to struggle against the man whom he had aided to raise, but upon whom his own fate had very often depended. Francesco was noble at heart, though ambitious. His enemies he often treated with unexampled generosity, forbearance, and even kindness. He showed that he feared no man, by freeing the most powerful and most skilful of his captive enemies; but he pursued his course steadily toward dominion, not altogether unstained by deceit and falsehood, but without cruelty or tyranny. Sore pressed by famine, and with his armies beneath their walls, the Milanese, who recognised his high qualities, though they feared his dominion, threw open their gates to