Knights of the Art; stories of the Italian painters by Amy Steedman
page 67 of 216 (31%)
page 67 of 216 (31%)
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`There is but one Lucrezia in all the world for me,' he said. `None other but thee shall bear that name.' As they talked a knock sounded at the door, and presently the favourite pupil, Sandro, looked in. There was a shout of joy from little Filippino, and the young man lifted the child in his arms and smiled with the look of one who loves children. `Come, Sandro, and see the little new flower,' said Filippo. `Is she not as fair as the roses which thou dost so love to paint?' Then, as the young man looked with interest at the tiny face, Filippo clapped him on the shoulder. `I have it!' he cried. `She shall be called after thee, Alessandra. Some day she will be proud to think that she bears thy name.' For already Filippo knew that this pupil of his would ere long wake the world to new wonder. The only clouds that hid the sunshine of Lucrezia's life was when Filippo was obliged to leave her for a while and paint his pictures in other towns. She always grew sad when his work in Florence drew |
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