he was rewarded by the hand of his master's sister; and a pretty
piece of Gothic sculpture with the Christ Child upon it. Hereabouts,
I may remark, we have continually to be walking over floor-tombs,
now ruined beyond hope, their ruin being perhaps the cause of a
protecting rail being placed round the others; although a floor-tomb
should have, I think, a little wearing from the feet of worshippers,
just to soften the lines. Those at the Certosa are, for example,
far too sharp and clean.

Let us complete the round of the church before we examine the sacristy,
and go now to the two chapels, where Giotto may be found at his best,
although restored too, on this side of the high altar. The Peruzzi
chapel has scenes from the lives of the two S. Johns, the Baptist,
and the Evangelist: all rather too thoroughly re-painted, although
following Giotto's groundwork closely enough to retain much of
their interest and value. And here once again one should consult the
"Mornings in Florence," where the wilful discerning enthusiast is,
like his revered subject, also at his best. Giotto's thoughtfulness
could not be better illustrated than in S. Croce. One sees him, as
ever, thinking of everything: not a very remarkable attribute of the
fresco painter since then, but very remarkable then, when any kind of
facile saintliness sufficed. Signor Bianchi, who found these paintings
under the whitewash in 1853, and restored them, overdid his part,
there is no doubt; but as I have said, their interest is unharmed,
and it is that which one so delights in. Look, for instance, at the
attitude of Drusiana, suddenly twitched by S. John back again into
this vale of tears, while her bier is on its way to the cemetery
outside the pretty city. "Am I really to live again?" she so plainly
says to the inexorable miracle-worker. The dancing of Herodias'
daughter, which offered Giotto less scope, is original too--original
not because it came so early, but because Giotto's mind was original
and innovating and creative. The musician is charming. The last scene
of all is a delightful blend of religious fervour and reality: the
miraculous ascent from the tomb, through an elegant Florentine loggia,
to everlasting glory, in a blaze of gold, and Christ and an apostle
leaning out of heaven with outstretched hands to pull the saint in,
as into a boat. Such a Christ as that could not but be believed in.

In the next chapel, the Bardi, we find Giotto at work on a life