It was, as has been said, two stories in height. In the lower story was a small, narrow doorway. The door was gone. There were no windows, and it was quite dark inside. It was about twelve feet wide, and fifteen feet long. At one end were some piles of fagots heaped together. The height was about fifteen feet. Before them they saw a rude ladder, running up to the story above. Its feet rested near the back of the room. There was no floor to the house, but only the hard-packed earth. "There's nothing here," said David, looking around. "Let's go into the upper story," said Clive. To this proposal David assented quite readily; and accordingly they both entered, and walked towards the ladder. Clive ascended first, and David followed. In a few moments they were in the upper story. Here it was light, for there were two windows in front. There was a floor, and the walls were plastered. Fragments of straw lay about, intermingled with chaff, as though the place had been used for some sort of a store-house. Overhead there were a number of heavy beams, which seemed too numerous and complicated to serve merely for the support of a roof; and among them was one large, round beam, which ran across. At this both of the boys stared very curiously. "I wonder what all that can be for," asked David. "O, no doubt," said Clive, "it's some of the massive wood-work of the old castle." "But what was the good of it?" "Why, to support the roof, of course," said Clive. "Yes, but there is too much. They would never have needed all that to support so small a roof. It's a waste of timber." "O, well, you know you mustn't expect the same ingenuity in an Italian builder that you would in an American." "I don't know about that. Why not? Do you mean to say that the Italians are inferior to the Americans in architecture? Pooh, man! in America there is no architecture at all; while here, in every little town, they have some edifice that in America would be considered something wonderful." "O, well, you know they are very clumsy in practical matters, in spite of their Artistic superiority. But apart from that I've just been thinking that this is only a part of some large castle, and this lumber work was, perhaps, once the main support of a massive roof. So, after all, it would have its use." David said nothing for some time. He was looking earnestly at the wood-work. "I'll tell you what it is," said he, at last. "I've got it. It isn't a castle at all. It's a windmill." "A windmill!" exclaimed Clive, contemptuously. "What nonsense! It's an old tower--the keep of some mediaeval castle." "It's a windmill!" persisted David. "Look at that big beam. It's round. See in one corner those projecting pieces. They were once part of some projecting wheel. Why, of course, it's a windmill. The other end of that cross-beam goes outside for the fans to be attached to it. This big cross-beam was the shaft. Of course that's it."