Leaning out of the window, and still absorbed in his amusement, the Duke did not hear the creak of a small door, nor notice the approach of a chamberlain, until, with a deep reverence, the man had handed him a paper.
'What is this?' asked the Duke.
'Messer Borgonzio Botta sends your Excellency the account for munition of war, powder and bullets; he is grieved that he must trouble your lordship, but at dawn the convoy starts for Mortara.'
Il Moro snatched the paper angrily, crumpled it, and threw it aside.
'How many times have I said I transact no business after supper? Good God! soon I shall not be allowed even to sleep!'
The chamberlain, still bowing, retreated backwards, announcing in a low voice which the Duke need not hear unless it so minded him:
'Messer Leonardo.'
'Leonardo! Why not have brought him in before? Conduct him hither at once.'
And returning to the feeding of his swans, he added to himself, 'Leonardo will not worry me!'
When the painter entered, Il Moro smiled at him much as he smiled at his pets; and when Leonardo would have knelt, restrained him, and kissed his forehead.