'It may be so. I know——'

'You know nothing! Messer Leonardo is not moved by goodness, but by the love of singularity.'

'What mean you by that?'

He laughed somewhat forcedly.

'Peace. Let us not quarrel. Wait, and I will show you certain of his drawings—i' faith, very interesting drawings.'

So upon our return we crept, thief-like, into the Master's studio. Cesare rummaged till he had found a certain concealed sketch-book which he showed to me. My conscience pricked me; nevertheless I looked with interest.

They were drawings of colossal bombards, explosive balls, many-barrelled guns, and such like engines of war, executed with no less delicacy than he lavished on the divine countenances of his Madonnas. Especially do I remember one bomb, half a braccio in diameter, called 'Fragilità,' the construction of which Cesare explained to me. It was cast of bronze, the hollow within being filled with layers of gypsum. Leonardo had written on the margin beside the sketch:—

'Most beautiful bomb. Very useful. After leaving the gun it ignites while one might pronounce an Ave Maria.'

'Ave Maria!' cried Cesare. 'How does this use of a Christian prayer please you, my friend? You see the breed of his inventions! And have you heard his definition of war?'

'No.'