had need of it. I mind to do just the opposite, and to leave my children
so much that they shall be able to succour yours." To this my father
answered: "No bad tree ever bore good fruit; quite the contrary; and I
tell you further that you are bad, and that your children will be mad
and paupers, and will cringe for alms to my virtuous and wealthy sons."
Thereupon we left the house, muttering words of anger on both sides. I
had taken my father's part; and when we stepped into the street
together, I told him I was quite ready to take vengeance for the insults
heaped on him by that scoundrel, provided he permit me to give myself up
to the art of design. He answered: "My dear son, I too in my time was a
good draughtsman; but for recreation, after such stupendous labours, and
for the love of me who am your father, who begat you and brought you up
and implanted so many honourable talents in you, for the sake of
recreation, I say, will not you promise sometimes to take in hand your
flute and that seductive cornet, and to play upon them to your heart's
content, inviting the delight of music?" I promised I would do so, and
very willingly for his love's sake. Then my good father said that such
excellent parts as I possessed would be the greatest vengeance I could
take for the insults of his enemies.

Not a whole month had been completed after this scene before the man
Pierino happened to be building a vault in a house of his, which he had
in the Via dello Studio; and being one day in a ground-floor room above
the vault which he was making, together with much company around him, he
fell to talking about his old master, my father. While repeating the
words which he had said to him concerning his ruin, no sooner had they
escaped his lips than the floor where he was standing (either because
the vault had been badly built, or rather through the sheer mightiness
of God, who does not always pay on Saturday) suddenly gave way. Some of
the stones and bricks of the vault, which fell with him, broke both his