gh. Rather he looked grave. "Pray God there be,"
he said. "For indeed the age lacks greatness."

"So every man has said in every age," I protested. "But our Dante
baffles me. He changes his moods as a chameleon changes his coat, and
feeds each mood so full. Yesteryear he was mad for the open air, and the
games, and the joy of life. To-day he is mewed in the cloisters of
knowledge. He is damned in his Latin. I will wait no more for him."

So I spoke in my impatience, and made as if to go; but Guido caught me
by the sleeve and restrained me, saying, "Why, here, as I think, he
comes, by way of the bridge."

Now, even as he spoke, I looked where he looked, and whom should I see
coming toward us on the shady side of the bridge than this very lad we
were talking of, and with him Messer Brunetto, the great scholar. So I
went on with a new anger in my voice, "It is he, indeed, in Messer
Brunetto's escort," and then I plucked Guido by the arm and pulled him
round about, so that we were out of ken of the coming pair. "Let us
stand off one side till he be alone."

So I urged and so I persuaded, and Messer Guido and I, that were curious
to have speech with Dante, but had no desire to have speech with the
elder, slipped apart and hid ourselves in the shadow of the pillars of
the Arcade that faced the Portinari palace.

II

A CHILD AND A CHILD

Guido and I had scarcely taken cover when Messer Brunetto came into view
on the lip of the bridge. He was talking as he walked, but he walked and
talked alone, for unperceived by him Dante had lagged behind and stood
with his elbows rested on the parapet looking down at Arno below him.
Messer Brunetto was discoursing very learnedly about Messer Virgilius,
and how he did, in a measure, form and model himself upon Messer
Homerus, when he suddenly became aware that he was wasting his periods
upon empty air--for of us where we lurked he knew nothing. Turning
round, he saw where Dante stood pensive, and called to him sharply,
asking him why he dawdled.

Dante, thus addressed, raised his head from the cup of his palms and his
elbows from the parapet, and, with a pleasant smile on his face, came
down to where Messer Brunetto had halted. I have never known a man's
face that could be blither than Dante's when he smiled, and in those
days, when he and I were young together, before that happened which was
so soon to happen, I had seen him smile many a time, though for the most
part his