Sanguine they were not. It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity. There was hope for me then. She removed it. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac.
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