Their
love of art, their study of the poets, their attempt to revive the
history of Greece and Rome were all scorned and mocked at as so much
wanton dissipation. The boys drew closer together; the fate of their
house hung trembling in the balance.

Then one morning a young lute-player named Cardiere came to Michael
Angelo and, drawing him aside from the others, told him that in a dream
the night before, Lorenzo had appeared to him, robed in torn black
garments, and in deep, melancholy tones had ordered him to tell Piero,
his son, that he would soon be driven out from Florence, never to
return. Michael Angelo told the musician to tell Piero, but the latter
was too frightened to obey.

A few days later he came again to Michael Angelo, this time pale and
shaking with fear, and said that Lorenzo had appeared to him a second
time, had repeated what he had said to him before, and had threatened
him with dire punishment if he dared again to disobey his strict
command.

Alarmed at the news Michael Angelo spoke his mind to Cardiere and bade
him set off at once to see Piero, who was at Careggi, and give him his
father's warning. Cardiere, half-way to Careggi, met Piero and some
friends riding in toward Florence. The minstrel stopped their way and
besought Piero to hear his story. The young Medici bade him speak, but
when he had heard the warning he laughed, and his friends laughed with
him.

Bibbiena, one of Piero's closest friends, and later to be the subject
of one of Raphael's masterpieces, cried aloud in scorn to Cardiere:
"Fool! Dost think that Lorenzo gives thee such honor before his own son
that he would thus appear to thee rather than to Piero?" With laughter
at Cardiere's crestfallen face the gay troop rode on, and the poor
messenger of evil tidings returned slowly with his news to Michael
Angelo.

By now the boy sculptor was thoroughly alarmed. Like almost every one
else of that age he believed in portents and visions; he therefore took
Cardiere's story to heart, and in addition he could see for himself that
the foolish, headstrong Piero was taking no steps to turn the growing
discontent. He hated to leave his friends, but knew that they would pay
no heed to his warnings. So, after much hesitation, he decided, with two
comrades of about his own age, to go to Venice and seek work in that
quieter city.

Ordinarily it would have taken the three boys about a week to ride from
Florence to Venice, but at that time F