man is poor who has few wants. Then I
have not been poor. But there is nothing left. It will be an empty
name."

Silence fell between them.

"There is in Florence a lady. You must seek for her, Francesco. She is
rich and beautiful. She did me once a kindness. I should like her--this
ring--" He slipped it from his finger--a heavy stone, deep green, with
translucent lights. "It was my father's crest. He gave it to my
mother--not his wife--a woman--faithful. She put it on my finger when
she died--a peasant woman. Tell the lady when you give it her ... she
has a son.... Tell her...." The voice fell hushed.

The young man waited, with bowed head. He looked up. He started quickly,
and leaned his ear to listen. Then he folded the hands across the quiet
breast. He passed swiftly from the silent chamber, down to the
courtyard, out on the King's highway, mounted and fleet.

The French King was riding merrily. He carolled a gay chanson. His
retinue followed at a distance. Francesco Melzi saluted and drew rein.
He spoke a word in the monarch's ear. The two men stood with uncovered
heads. They looked toward the western windows. The gay cavalcade halted
in the glow of light. A hush fell on their chatter. The windows flamed
in the crimson flood. Within the room, above the gleaming coals, a woman
of eternal youth looked down with tranquil gaze upon an old man's face.

THUMBS AND FUGUES

I

"Ready, father--ready!" shouted the small boy. He was standing on the
top step of a flight of stairs leading to the organ-loft of the
Hofchapel, peering in. His round, stolid face and short, square legs
gave no hint of the excitement that piped in his shrill voice.

The man at the organ looked leisurely around, nodding his big head and
smiling. "Ja, ja, S'bastian--ja," he said placidly. His fingers played
slowly on.

The boy mounted the steps to the organ and rubbed his cheek softly
against the coat sleeve that reached out to the keys. The man smiled
again a big, floating smile, and his hands came to rest.

The boy looked up wistfully. "They'll all get there before we do," he
said quickly. "Come!"

The man looked down absently and kindly. "Nein, S'bastian." He patted
the round head beside him. "There is no need that we should hurry."

They passed out of the chapel, across the courtyard and into the open
road. For half an hour they trudged on in silence, their broad backs
swinging from side to side in the morning light. A