the prior.

`That may not be so easy as thou thinkest,' said
the prior, for he knew Filippo better than did this
great Cosimo.

But Cosimo did not see any difficulty in the
matter whatever. High in his palace he prepared
a room for the painter, and placed there everything
he could need. No comfort was lacking, and when
Filippo came he was treated as an honoured guest,
except for one thing. Whenever the heavy door
of his room swung to, there was a grating sound
heard, and the key in the lock was turned from
outside. So Filippo was really a captive in his
handsome prison.

That was all very well for a few days. Filippo
laughed as he painted away, and laid on the tender
blue of the Virgin's robe, and painted into her eyes
the solemn look which he had so often seen on the
face of some poor peasant woman as she knelt at
prayer. But after a while he grew restless and
weary of his work.

`Plague take this great man and his fine manners,'
he cried. `Does he think he can catch a lark and
train it to sing in a cage at his bidding? I am
weary of saints and angels. I must out to breathe
the fresh sweet air of heaven.'