I will blot out the horrid figure I have drawn and set in its place the
shape I beheld in my dream. For we must not wrong even the Devil
himself."

"You had best go to sleep again," scolded his wife. "You are talking
stark nonsense, and unchristian to boot."

Spinello tried to rise, but his strength failed him and he fell back
unconscious on his pillow. He lingered on a few days in a high fever,
and then died.




THE LOAVES OF BLACK BREAD

TO MADEMOISELLE MARY FINALY




THE LOAVES OF BLACK BREAD

_Tu tibi divitias stolidissime congeris amplas,
Negasque micam pauperi;
Advenit ecce dies qua saevis ignibus ardens
Rogabis aquae guttulam._[1]

(_Navis stultifera_, Sebastian Brandt, 1507, fol, xix.)