ut while he was
busily engaged, his friend, Pinturrichio, one day entered. After
looking at his friend's work very attentively, "Bravo!" he exclaimed,
"thou hast done well, my Raphael--but I have just returned from
Florence--oh, would that thou couldst behold the works of Leonardo da
Vinci! Such horses! they paw the ground and shake the foam from their
manes. Oh, my poor Raphael! thou hast never seen nature; thou art
wasting time on these cartoons. Perugino is a good man and a good
painter, I will not deny that--but Leonardo's horses!"

Raphael threw aside his pencil and hastily rose.

"Where now?" asked his friend; "whither art thou going so hastily?"

"To Florence," exclaimed Raphael.

"And what carries you so suddenly?"

"The horses of Leonardo," replied the young artist, sportively;
"seriously, however, the desire of excellence implanted in my soul."

When he arrived at Florence he was charmed with the appearance of the
city; but his whole mind was absorbed in the works of Leonardo da
Vinci and of Michael Angelo, the rival artists of the age. As his stay
was to be short, he did not enter upon laborious occupation. His
mornings were passed in the reveries of his art; his evenings in the
gay and fascinating society of Florence, where the fame of Perugino's
beloved pupil had already reached. The frescos at Siena were spoken
of; and the beautiful countenance and graceful deportment of Raphael
won him the friendship of distinguished men. Taddeo Taddei, the
learned friend of Cardinal Bembo, solicited him to reside in his
house; he consented, and in return for the courtesy painted for him
two pictures, in what is called his first style, that of Perugino.

One evening he retired to his couch at a late hour. He had been the
hero of a _fete_, and love and beauty had heedlessly scattered their
flowers in the path of the living Adonis. In vain he sought a few
hours of slumber. He had quaffed the juice of the grape, emptying
goblet after goblet, till his beating pulse and throbbing temples
refused to be quieted. He started from his couch and approached the
lattice; the heavens had changed their aspect, the still serenity of
the evening had passed away, and the clouds were hurrying over the
pale and watery moon. Nothing was heard but the low sighing of the
wind, and now and then a sudden gust swept through the lattice, and
threatened to extinguish the taper which was burning dimly on the
table. A slight noise made him tur