tower of the old Fiesole Cathedral had been sharply defined as they
turned to look at it when leaving their home; and Giotto's Campanile, of
which they had caught a glimpse on their way hither, shone like a white
lily in the morning sunlight. The sweet, invigorating air, the bustle of
the busy streets, the happiness of youth and pleasant expectancy caused
all hearts to beat high, and it was a group of eager faces that turned
toward the grand old church whose marble sides show the discoloration of
centuries.

At Mr. Sumner's invitation all sat on the steps in a sunny corner while
he talked of Cimabue,--the first great name in the history of Italian
painting,--the man who was great enough to dare attempt to change
conditions that existed in his time, which was the latter part of the
thirteenth century. He told them how, though a nobleman possessing
wealth and honor, he had loved painting and had given his life to it;
and how, having been a man arrogant of all criticism, he was fitted to
be a pioneer; to break from old traditions, and to infuse life into the
dead Byzantine art.

He told them how the people, ever quick to feel any change, were
delighted to recognize, in a picture, life, movement, and expression,
however slight. How, one day six hundred years ago, a gay procession,
with banners and songs, bore a large painting, the _Madonna and Child_,
from the artist's studio, quite a distance away, through the streets and
up to the steps on which they were sitting; and how priests chanting
hymns and bearing church banners came out to receive the picture.

"And through all these centuries it has here remained," he continued.
"It is, of course, scarred by time and dark with the smoke of incense.
When you look upon it I wish you would remember what I told you the