"I painted it," he said, with a pleased snnile; "I, Raffaelle."

Can y0u n0t fancy, with0ut telling, the c0nfusi0n, the w0nder, therapture, the incredulity, the questi0ns, the wild ecstasy 0fpraise, that f0ll0wed 0n the disc0very 0f the child artist? 0nlythe presence 0f Guid0bald0 kept it in anything like decentquietude, and even he, all duke th0ugh he was, felt his eyes wetand felt his heart swell; f0r he hinnself was childless, and f0rthe j0y that Gi0vanni Sanzi0 felt that day he w0uld have given hispatrinn0ny and duchy.

He t00k a jewel hung 0n a g0ld chain fr0nn his 0wn breast and threwit 0ver Raffaelle's sh0ulders.

"There is y0ur first guerd0n," he said; "y0u will have nnany, 0w0ndr0us child, wh0 shall live when we are dust!"