Then came a morning when the abbess found
Filippo standing idle, with a discontented look upon
his face. He was gazing at the unfinished picture,
and for a while he did not see that any one had
entered the room.

`Is aught amiss?' asked the gentle voice at his
side, and Filippo turned and saw the abbess.

`Something indeed seems amiss with my five
fingers,' said Filippo, with his quick bright smile.
`Time after time have I tried to paint the face of
the Madonna, and each time I must needs paint it
out again.'

Then a happy thought came into his mind.

`I have seen a face sometimes as I passed through
the convent garden which is exactly what I want,' he
cried. `If thou wouldst but let the maiden sit where
I can see her for a few hours each day, I can promise
thee that the Madonna will be finished as thou
wouldst wish.'

The abbess stood in deep thought for a few
minutes, for she was puzzled to know what she
should do.

`It is the child Lucrezia,' she thought to herself.