'Welcome! 'Tis long since I have seen you. How fare you, friend?'
'I have to thank your Excellency——'
'Enough! Enough! You are worthy of better gifts. Give me time, and I will recompense you properly.'
Then they talked of the diving-bell, the shoes for walking the water, the wings. But when Leonardo would have diverted the conversation to business, to the fortifications, the Martesana Canal, the casting of the great Cavallo, Ludovico evaded the subject with an air of disgust. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he fell into a fit of abstraction, oblivious of his companion's presence, sitting quite silent, with eyes on the ground, and Leonardo, supposing himself dismissed, would have taken his leave. The Duke nodded absently, but when the painter had reached the door he recalled him, and laying both his hands on his shoulders, looked at him with a long sad gaze.
'Farewell, my Leonardo. Who knows if ever again we shall see each other, we two alone, face to face, as at this minute!'
'Is your Excellency going to abandon us?'
Il Moro sighed heavily and paused before replying.
'We have been together for sixteen years,' he said at last, 'and in all that time I have never disapproved you, nor, I think, have you disapproved me. The vulgar may murmur; yet I think in after ages, when they speak of Leonardo, they will have a good word for Il Moro, his friend.'
The painter, who did not like outbursts of tenderness, replied in the one courtly phrase which he reserved for moments of necessity:—
'I would I had more than a single life to dedicate to the service of your Highness.'