She flew into the house and was but an instant gone. Leonardo saw her hide something like a small vial in her bosom, but the large key was in her hand; and merely beckoning him to follow, she ran down the steps of the terrace, and through the garden toward the gate. Leonardo followed rapidly, merely saying to the girl----
"Send down my horse to the gate."
Leonora was at the postern first, however, but her hands so trembled she could not put the key in the lock. The painter took it from her, opened the little gate, and, passing in, she sped on towards the citadel. She did not observe that Leonardo was no longer with her; but, with frantic speed, and hair escaped from all its bindings, she sped on through the almost deserted streets till she reached the gates of the citadel.
"Where is my father?" she cried; "where is the Lord of Imola?"
"Why, lady," replied a man standing beside the sentinel, "he is not here; he is in the bishop's piazza, waiting till the execution is over. This is a terrible day, and will bring ruin on the city, I can see."
But ere his last words were uttered, Leonora was gone.
Ramiro d'Orco truly stood in the square before the bishop's palace, which was not two hundred yards from the south gate. His arms were crossed upon his chest; his head was held high, his brow contracted; his jaws so firmly set, that when he spoke, in answer to any of the lords and officers who surrounded him, the sounds issued from between his teeth, and his lips were hardly seen to move.
"Do you not think, my lord, this is very dangerous," said one; "do you remember he is the prefect?"
"He himself decided yesterday at this very hour, that no rank can shield a murderer from death," replied Ramiro d'Orco.
"He made no defence," said another, "but denied the competence of your court, declared the charge a lie, and appealed to the Pope and the King of France."