"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. "'Tis the plan of one. Messer Gambera will explain it," and he motioned eagerly to the architect. "Here, messer, this is the porch?" And he laid his finger on the drawing, absorbed in contemplation. "Yes, my lord." "Set on three steps?" "'Tis so, my lord." "I do not care for that, messer, and I will have more carving--would you not, Graziosa?" "You must not ask me; indeed I do not know," she smiled. Visconti's face for an instant darkened. "You must learn," he said. "My duchess must know architecture. Take away the plans, messer; I will look at them alone." "Perchance the lady might care for the model, my lord?" returned the architect. He spoke bad Italian, and was shaking with nervousness. "Bring the model," replied Visconti, and the page placed the box upon the table. Messer Gambera touched a spring and it flew apart, showing an exquisite little model of white marble, some twelve inches high. "Oh! it is beautiful!" said Graziosa, and Visconti looked at her with sparkling eyes. "You think so? Yes, it will be beautiful--the church of all Lombardy." "It will be like this, of marble?" she asked, breathless. "Every inch--from the porch to the pinnacles, and the floor shall be precious mosaic, and the altars crystal and serpentine, jasper and amethyst; men shall spend their lives in carving one pillar, and the price of cities shall pay for the gold that shall be lavished on it. Not in our life will this be done, nor in the lives of those that reign after us--or even they that follow, but finished it shall be, and one of the wonders of the world--and I shall be remembered as he who planned it--to the glory of God and the house of Visconti!" He turned with shining eyes to the architect, who gazed on him with admiration, with a face that reflected the speaker's own fervor. "Yes, mine will be the glory, though I shall never see the pinnacles kiss the sky, or hear the mass beneath that marble roof--mine will be the glory--even though I am not buried there, it will be my monument to all eternity!" Graziosa gazed at him in silence: she could not understand. Gian glanced down at her with a smile. "Would it not be a worthy tomb, even for a king, Graziosa?"