`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