of the gray palace, and
Messer Simone dei Bardi, quitting the side of her chariot, advanced
toward the Palace of the Portinari to give the formal summons that the
Queen of May demanded admittance, all of which was part and parcel of
the ceremonial of the pretty sport. At the same instant Dante, quitting
Guido's side, advanced a little nearer to the girl, who did not descend
from her chair, but sat still in her chariot as if waiting for his
coming, and the little crowd of juvenals about her fluttered aside
before his resolute advance, and I thought even then how strong his
young face looked, and how purposeful, for all his youth, that grim nose
of his and the steady eyes above it, in contrast with the pink-and-white
prettiness of the many slim lads that were the Queen of Beauty's
satellites.

And Dante raised his voice and called to the girl as a friend calls to a
friend: "Give me a rose for my rose, madonna! Give me a rose for my
rose!"

Now the girl, as she sat, had in her lap a great quantity of roses
exceedingly red and large, and she took up one of these in answer to the
call and cast it through the air to Dante, who caught it as it fell,
and, catching it, lifted it to his lips with his eyes fixed on the girl.
Then, whether because of his action or the eagerness of his gaze above
the crimson petals I know not, but Madonna Beatrice flushed a little,
and she gathered the rest of her roses into her arms and rose from her
chair, and descended from her chariot and mounted the steps of the great
house, whose doors had now opened to Simone's summons. Messer Folco of
the Portinari stood smiling on his threshold, but Messer Simone, by his
side, was not smiling, for he had seen that pretty business of the given
rose, and I could note that its prettiness pleased him little. I think
he would have stepped down then and there and eased his spleen, but
Messer Folco, as his way was ever, wished to improve the occasion by
making a speech.

"Friends and neighbors," he began, in his ample, affable voice,
"Florentines all, in my daughter's name, and for my own sake, I thank
you." Thereat there came a little cheer from the crowd, and then Folco
turned toward his daughter, plainly very proud of her, but still
flagrantly paternal and pompous.

"Come, child," he said, solemnly. "Come, you have been queen for a day,
but your reign is over, and you are no more now than honest goodman
Folco's daughter. Get you within." Then Madonna Beatr