Next morning Buffalmacco, finding his colours all topsy-turvy and his
work spoiled, was both grieved and angry. He was persuaded some painter
of Arezzo, who was jealous of his superior skill, had played him this
dirty trick, and went straight to the Bishop to complain. The latter
urged him to set to work again and repair with all speed what had been
ruined in a manner so mysterious. He undertook that for the future two
soldiers should keep guard night and day before the frescoes, with
orders to drive their lances through any one who should dare to come
near. On this condition, Buffalmacco agreed to resume his task, and two
soldiers were put on sentry close at hand. One evening, just as he was
leaving the hall, his day's work finished, the soldiers saw the Lord
Bishop's ape spring so nimbly into his place on the scaffold and seize
the colour-tubes and brushes with such rapidity there was no possibility
of stopping him. They shouted lustily to the painter, who came back just
in time to see the baboon paint over for the second time King Melchior,
the white horse and the scarlet saddle-cloth. The sight was like to move
poor Buffalmacco at one and the same time to laughter and tears.

He went off to the Bishop and thus addressed him:

"My Lord Bishop, you are good enough to admire my style of painting; but
your baboon prefers a different. What need to have had me summoned here,
when you had a master painter in your own household? It may be he
lacked experience. But now he has nothing left to learn, my presence
here is quite unnecessary, and I will back to Florence."

Having so said, the good Buffalmacco returned to his inn, in great
vexation. He ate his supper without appetite and went to bed in a very
dismal frame of mind.