The love for art in Italy at that time approached adoration: the name of Leonardo da Vinci was famous from the foot of the Alps to the Straits of Messina, and Leonora took the great painter's hand and kissed it with as much veneration as if he had been her patron saint.
"Ah! and so this is the fair Signora d'Orco?" said Leonardo. "Now I understand it all. You are travelling to join your father. I met with him at Bologna as I passed."
"How, long ago was that, Maestro Leonardo?" asked Leonora, with some surprise.
"It was some days since," replied the painter, "and he must be in Rome by this time."
The lovers looked inquiringly into each other's faces, and after a moment's thought, Lorenzo said:
"We expected to overtake him at Bologna. His letters led us to believe we should find him there; but doubtless he has left directions for our guidance."
"Perhaps so," replied Leonardo, in a somewhat sombre and doubtful tone; "but, if you do not find such directions, what will you do?"
"We can but go on, I suppose," answered Leonora; "Lorenzo must march with the French army, which directs its course to Rome, and I cannot be left without some one to protect me."
The painter shook his head gravely.
"Far better, my child," he said, "that you should remain in Bologna. The ways are dangerous; Rome is no fit place for you. Besides, your father has gone thither, I am told, on affairs of much importance, and you would be but a burden to him. He goes, they told me, to hold a conference with Cardinal Cæsar Borgia, who seeks a man of great skill and resolution to hold in check the somewhat turbulent and discontented inhabitants of the territories in Romagna, bestowed upon him by his father, Pope Alexander. Go not after him to Rome, but by his express desire. I will give you a letter to the Abbess Manzuoli, in Bologna, who will be a mother to you for the time you have to stay."