good provider." He even provided a duenna, or chaperon of experience,
one who knew all the subtle tricks of that base animal, man, and where
Laura went there went the chaperon.

Petrarch once succeeded in slipping a purse of gold into the duenna's
hands, and that worthy proved her fitness by keeping the purse, and
increasing her watchfulness of her charge as the danger of the poet's
passion increased. The duenna hinted that the sacrifice of her own
virtue was not entirely out of the question, but Laura was her sacred
charge. That is, the duenna could resist the temptations of Laura.

This passion of Petrarch for Laura very quickly became known and
recognized. The duenna doubtless retailed it below-stairs, and the
verger at the church also had his tale to tell. Love-stories allow us to
live the lover's life vicariously, and so that which once dwelt in the
flesh becomes a thought. Matchmakers are all living their lives over
again in their minds.

But besides the gossips, Petrarch himself made no secret of his passion.
Almost daily he sent Laura a poem. She could have refused the gentle
missive if she had wished, but she did not wish.

Petrarch had raised her to a dizzy height. Wherever she went she was
pointed out, and the attorney, her husband, hired another duenna to
watch the first. This love of a youth for a married woman was at that
time quite proper. The lady of the knight-errant might be one to whom he
had never spoken.

Petrarch sang for Laura; but he sang more melodiously than any one had
sung before, save Dante alone. His homage was the honorable homage of
the cavalier.

Yet Hugh de Sade grew annoyed and sent a respectful request to Petrarch
to omit it.

This brought another sonnet, distributed throughout the town, stating
that Petrarch's love was as sacred as that of his love for the Madonna,
and indeed, he addressed Laura as the Madonna.

Only at church did the lovers meet, or upon the street as they passed.
Gossip was never allowed to evolve into scandal.

Bliss Carman tells in a lecture of a fair and frail young thing crying
aloud to her mother in bitter plaint, "He loves me--yes, I know he loves
me--but only for literary purposes!"

Love as a mental "Martini" is a well-known fact, but its cold, plotted
concoction is a poison and not a stimulant. Petrarch's love for Laura
was genuine and sincere; and that she fed and encouraged this love for
twenty years, or to the day of her death, we know full