mous of
European seats of learning. Dante spent several years in Padua after his
banishment from Florence, and Petrarch once lived here. All these things
had been talked over before they alighted at the station, and, driving
through one of the gates of the city, went to their hotel.

All were eager to see whatever there was of interest. As it would be
best to wait until morning for looking at the pictures, they at once set
forth and walked along the narrow streets lined with arcades, and
through grassy Il Prato, with its fourscore and more statues of Padua's
famous men ranged between the trees. They saw the traditional house of
Petrarch, and that of Dante, in front of which stands a large mediaeval
sarcophagus reported to contain the bones of King Antenor, who,
according to the poet Virgil, founded the city. They admired the
churches, from several of which clusters of Byzantine domes rise grandly
against the sky, noted the order, the quiet, that now reigns throughout
the streets, and talked of the fierce, horrible warfare that had
centuries ago raged there.

The next morning they spent among Giotto's frescoes, over thirty of
which literally cover the walls of the Arena Chapel. The return to the
work of the early fourteenth century, after months spent in study of the
High Renaissance, was like an exchange of blazing noon sunshine for the
first soft, sweet light that heralds the coming dawn. They were
surprised at the freshness and purity of color and at the truth and
force of expression. They had forgotten that old Giotto could paint so
well. They found it easy now to understand in the artist that which at
first had been difficult.

"Do you not think that Dante sometimes came here and sat while Giotto
was painting?" by and by asked Margery, in an almost reverent voice.

"I do not doubt it," replied Mrs. Douglas. "Tradition tells us that
they were great friends, and that when here together in Padua they lived
in the same house. I always think of Giotto as possessing a jovial
temperament, and as being full of bright thoughts. He must have been a
great comfort to the poor unhappy poet. Without doubt they often walked
together to this chapel; and while Giotto was upon the scaffolding, busy
with his Bible stories, Dante would sit here, brooding over his
misfortunes; or, perhaps, weaving some of his great thoughts into
sublime poetry."

Afterward they went to the Eremitani to see Mantegna's frescoes, and
thought they cou