'Not at present, Messer Niccolò,' replied Lucio.
'Never commit that folly; unless you have the shoulders of Atlas. Eh! Messer Leonardo?'
The painter understood that Messer Niccolò loved Marietta passionately, but was ashamed to admit the fact.
The inn was now emptying fast; Leonardo prepared for his start and invited Machiavelli to ride with him. But Messer Niccolò shook his head, saying he must wait for money from Florence before he could pay his bill. He spoke sadly, his assumed levity having suddenly collapsed. He looked ill and wretched. Inaction, long stay in one place was misery to him. Not without cause had the Council of Ten complained of his frequent, causeless, and unexpected removals, which were great embarrassment to their affairs.
Leonardo took him aside and offered to lend the requisite money. Machiavelli declined.
'You hurt me, my friend,' said the painter; 'remember this rare conjunction of the stars! You would confer a benefit upon me.'
There was so much kindness in Leonardo's voice that Messer Niccolò had not the courage to persist in his refusal. He took twenty ducats which he promised to return on receipt of his money from Florence; then immediately paid his score, with the lavishness of a great noble.