Chapter 35

"A splendid view we have here, only some processions are not so pleasant as the one that passed to-day. There was one in particular--some weeks ago--we stayed in the back of the house that day. The old Visconti rode to Brescia, the soldiers said, his son behind him! Ah, for that day's work the Duke is a lost soul, Ambrogio." There was a silence after this; the painter kept his eyes on the darkening sky. Ambrogio dropped his brush and rose with a pale face. "I can paint no more," he said. "I am weary." His daughter'…