, wealth
ever covets wealth. But I conceive that whatever of god-like essence was
muffled in the hulk of his composition was quickened by the truly
unearthly beauty of that pale face with its mystic smile and the sweet
eyes that seemed to see sights denied to the commonalty. I think Messer
Simone was in love with Beatrice very much as I might have been, out of
very wonder at a thing so rare and fair and unfamiliar. I was never, as
I have said, in love with Folco's daughter; my tastes are simpler, more
carnal; give me an Ippolita in my affectionate hours, and I ask nothing
better. Love for me must be a jolly companion, never squeamish, never
chilly, never expecting other homage than such salutations as swordsmen
may use for preliminary to a hot engagement. Messer Dante has written a
very beautiful book on his business, its words all fire and golden air,
but I wrote my rhymes in a tavern with red wine at my elbow and a doxy
on my knee. I wonder which of us will be remembered longest.

Yet if I was never in love with Beatrice, I could understand the matter,
and feel how the thick-headed, thick-hearted, thick-fingered giant must
shiver at the unfamiliar twinges and rigors. When a man of such a kind
finds himself in such a dilemma, he is in much such a case as if he were
sick of some childish ailment more dangerous to maturity than to youth.
The thought that another should challenge his right or traverse his
desire galled him to a choler little short of madness. Wherefore, if he
had hated the Cavalcanti faction before, he hated them a thousand times
more now, seeing that Dante was of their number, this Dante that had
gained a rose of lady Beatrice, and wore it next his heart no doubt, and
had denied him and defied him with such cheer and cunning, and dared to
make verses in praise of his lady. If Simone had wished ere this that
the Cavalcanti party was ruined, now he was resolved upon its ruin, and
for no reason more strongly than because it included Dante in its
company. In this resolve, I say again, I cannot honestly blame Messer
Simone. He only acted as most of us would have acted if we had been in
his place.

Messer Simone, I must cheerfully admit, had calculated his plans
cleverly enough. Long before his magnificent appearance at Messer
Folco's house he had been at the pains to make himself aware that the
bulk of the youth of the city were with him hand and heart in his
desperate adventure. To do the youth of Florence