looked good-naturedly on the company, but his
strong knotted hands waved aside their greetings.

`So you were busy as usual finding fault with my
work,' he said. `Come, friend Perugino, tell me
what thou hast found to grumble at.'

`I like not thy methods, and that I tell thee
frankly,' answered Perugino, an angry light shining
in his eyes. `It is such work as thine that drags
the art of painting down from the heights of
heavenly things to the low taste of earth. It robs
it of all dignity and restfulness, and destroys the
precious traditions handed down to us since the days
of Giotto.'

The face of Michelangelo grew angry and scornful
as he listened to this.

`Thou art but a dolt and a blockhead in Art,' he
said. `Thou wilt soon see that the day of thy
saints and Madonnas is past, and wilt cease to paint
them over and over again in the same manner, as a
child doth his lesson in a copy book.'

Then he turned and went out of the studio before
any one had time to answer him.

Perugino was furiously angry and would not
listen to reason, but must needs go before the great