But see! they are talking of more serious matters now.
"Not enter Milan!" cries Leonora; "not enter beautiful Milan! Signor Lorenzo, how is that? Have you lost all love and pride in your own fair country?"
"I must not enter Milan," he answered with a sigh; "but if I might, Leonora, I could not."
"But why--why?" she asked eagerly; "are you one of the exiles? Oh, if that is so, the princess loves me well, and besides, when you come with the King of France, a guest of Count Ludovic, the past must be forgotten in the present, and you be welcomed too. Oh, do not say you will not come."
She spoke eagerly, and then cast down her eyes, for his met hers with a look too full of admiration to be mistaken.
"Do not ask him--do not ask him," said sweet Bianca Maria di Rovera; "he is going to my grandfather's villa till the king marches on. That is already settled, Leonora."
"And you never told me, when your grandfather engaged us to go there too," said Leonora; "but how will the King of France be pleased?"
"He has given permission," answered Lorenzo; "he understands well that the son of Carlo Visconti could only enter Milan in one manner."
The young girl bent her head, and only answered, in a low tone, "I would fain hear more. It seems to me a strange arrangement."
"You shall hear all, at some other time and place, Signora Leonora," replied Lorenzo: "every minute I expect the trumpets to sound to horse; and my tale, which is a sad one, should have some quiet spot for the telling, and evening skies, and few listeners near."