had passed by. It was known that every one was ready to compete
for the duke's choice.

One afternoon Raffaelle took Luca by the hand and said to him,
"Come."

He led the young man up to the table, beneath the unglazed window,
where he had passed so many of these ninety days of the spring and
summer.

Luca gave a great cry, and stood gazing, gazing, gazing. Then he
fell on his knees and embraced the little feet of the child: it
was the first homage that he, whose life became one beautiful song
of praise, received from man.

"Dear Luca," he said softly, "do not do that. If it be indeed
good, let us thank God."

What his friend saw were the great oval dish and the great jar or
vase standing with the sunbeams full upon them, and the brushes
and the tools and the colors all strewn around. And they shone
with lustrous opaline hues and wondrous flame-like glories and
gleaming iridescence, like melted jewels, and there were all
manner of graceful symbols and classic designs wrought upon them;
and their borders were garlanded with cherubs and flowers, bearing
the arms of Montefeltro, and the landscapes were the tender,
homely landscapes round about Urbino; and the mountains had the
solemn radiance that the Apennines wore at eveningtime; and amidst
the figures there was one supreme, white-robed, golden-crowned
Esther, to whom the child painter had given the face of Pacifica.