And seizing his papers furiously he tore and trampled them.
From that day his health grew worse. He returned to his bed, and Melzi foresaw that he would not again rise from it. Sometimes for whole days he lay in a trance.
Francesco was devout, and whatever the Church taught he believed without question. Alone of Leonardo's pupils he had not fallen under the influence of those 'fatal spells'; that 'evil eye' attributed to the Master. Though Leonardo did not observe the Church ceremonials, his young companion divined by the instinct of love that he was not impious. The lad did not try to penetrate further into the great man's opinions. Now, however, the thought that he might die unabsolved from errors, perhaps from heresies, was torture to the pious youth. He was afraid to address the Master on the subject, but he would have given his life to save him.
One evening Leonardo, seeing his anxious face, asked him what were his thoughts. Francesco answered with some embarrassment.
'Fra Guglielmo came this morning and wanted to see you. I told him it was impossible——'
The Master looked at his young attendant and saw alarm, entreaty, hope on his face.
'Francesco, this was not what you were thinking. Why will you not tell me?'
The pupil was silent, his eyes downcast. Leonardo understood; he turned away and frowned. He had always wished to die as he had lived, in complete liberty; in the truth, so far as he knew it. But he had compassion on Francesco. Could he, in these last hours of his life, embitter a simple heart, bring offences once more upon one of these 'little ones'?
He looked again at his pupil; laid his wasted hand on the lad's hand and said with a quiet smile:—
'My son, send to Fra Guglielmo and bid him come to-morrow. I wish to confess and to communicate. Send also for Maître Guillaume.'