so well in the quiet home of Fiesole.

He did not care for fame or power, this dreamy
painter of angels, and when the Pope invited him to
Rome to paint the walls of a chapel there, he
thought no more of the glory and honour than if he
was but called upon to paint another cell at
San Marco.

But when the Pope had seen what this quiet monk
could do, he called the artist to him.

`A man who can paint such pictures,' he said,
`must be a good man, and one who will do well
whatever he undertakes. Will you, then, do other
work for me, and become my Archbishop at
Florence?' But the painter was startled and dismayed.

`I cannot teach or preach or govern men,' he
said, `I can but use my gift of painting for the
glory of God. Let me rather be as I am, for it is
safer to obey than to rule.'

But though he would not take this honour
himself, he told the Pope of a friend of his, a humble
brother, Fra Antonino, at the convent of San Marco,
who was well fitted to do the work. So the Pope
took the painter's advice, and the choice was so
wise and good, that to this day the Florentine people
talk lovingly of their good bishop Antonino.