count to be too old, and suddenly bethought herself of
Galeazzo di Sanseverino, as a suitable husband. This proposal, however,
the Moro promptly declined in a curt note, telling the countess that
Messer Galeazzo had no intention of marrying again.[75]

But the days of the once powerful Moro's reign were already numbered,
and the time was coming when he would be in sore need of help himself.
His subjects were already grievously discontented. At Milan, Cremona,
and Lodi, even in faithful Pavia, there had been tumults and riotings.
It became increasingly difficult to exact the loans required to meet the
heavy expenses for the national defence, while the ill-paid troops
murmured, and in many cases deserted the standard.

"In the whole Milanese there is trouble and discontent. No one loves the
duke. And yet he still reigns.... But he is a traitor to Venice, and
will be punished for his bad faith." So wrote Marino Sanuto that autumn;
while another Venetian chronicler, Malipiero, gave vent to his bitter
hatred in these words:

"Lodovico hoped to give the Signory trouble by his alliance with Charles
VIII., but God our protector has taken away that monarch's life, and has
made King Alvise his successor, who is Lodovico's enemy."

So the year closed gloomily. The political horizon was black and
lowering, and Lodovico had lost the wife upon whose courage and presence
of mind he had learnt to lean. He was suffering from gout himself, and
was often unable to mount a horse. But he still found pleasure in his
artistic dreams and in the vast schemes that filled his brain. Already
he had seen many of his plans carried out. Bramante's cupola and
sacristy were finished and Beatrice's tomb, with the sleeping form and
face, had been exquisitely wrought in marble by the sculptor's hand.
Leonardo had completed the Cenacolo to be the wonder of the world in
coming ages, and the great equestrian statue was only waiting for better
times to be cast in bronze and become a permanent memorial of the proud
Sforza race. Now a new and grander vision filled his thoughts. He would
rebuild the convent of the Dominican Friars on a vast and splendid
scale, and make it the most glorious sanctuary in the world, surpassing
even his beloved Certosa, for the sake of Beatrice, and as a living
memorial of the love which he had borne to his dead wife.

He began by rebuilding the friars' dormitories, enlarging their gardens,
and giving them a good water-supply.