his neighbor, who knew him to be an honest man and a true, if
over-obstinate and too vain of his own place in Urbino.

"Our lord the duke!" shouted the people standing in the street;
and Ser Benedetto walked out with stately tread to receive the
honor of his master's visit to his bottega.

Raffaelle slipped noiselessly up to his father's side, and slid
his little hand into Sanzio's.

"You are not surely afraid of our good Guidobaldo!" said his
father, with a laugh and some little surprise, for Raffaelle was
very pale, and his lower lip trembled a little.

"No," said the child, simply.

The young duke and his court came riding down the street, and
paused before the old stone house of the master-potter,--splendid
gentlemen, though only in their morning apparel, with noble
Barbary steeds fretting under them, and little pages and liveried
varlets about their steps. Usually, unless he went hunting or on a
visit to some noble, Guidobaldo, like his father, walked about
Urbino like any one of his citizens; but he knew the pompous and
somewhat vainglorious temper of Messer Benedetto, and good-
naturedly was willing to humor its harmless vanities. Bowing to
the ground, the master-potter led the way, walking backward into
his bottega; the courtiers followed their prince; Giovanni Sanzio
with his little son and a few other privileged persons went in
also at due distance. At the farther end of the workshop stood the
pupils and the artists from Pesaro and other places in the duchy