t, and showed him the space above the high
altar where the picture was to be placed.

'Our great desire is that thou shouldst paint for us the Holy Virgin
with the Blessed Child on the night of the Nativity,' she said.

The painter seemed to listen, but his attention wandered, and all the
time he wished himself back in the sunny garden, where he had seen a
fair young face looking through the pink sprays of almond blossoms,
while the music of the vesper hymn sounded sweet and clear in his ears.

'I will begin to-morrow,' he said with a start when the low voice of
the abbess stopped. 'I will paint the Madonna and Babe as thou
desirest.'

So next day the work began. And each time the abbess noiselessly
entered the room where the painter was at work and watched the picture
grow beneath his hand, she felt more and more sure that she had done
right in asking this painter to decorate their beloved chapel.

True, it was said by many that the young artist was but a worldly
minded man, not like the blessed Fra Angelico, the heavenly painter of
San Marco; but his work was truly wonderful, and his handsome face
looked good, even if a somewhat merry smile was ever wont to lurk about
his mouth and in his eyes.

Then came a morning when the abbess found Filippo standing idle, with a
discontented look upon his face. He was gazing at the unfinished
picture, and for a while he did not see that any one had entered the
room.

'Is aught amiss?' asked the gentle voice at his side, and Filippo
turned and saw the abbess.

'Something indeed seems amiss with my five fingers,' said Filippo, with
his quick bright smile. 'Time after time have I tried to paint the face
of the Madonna, and each time I must needs paint it out again.'

Then a happy thought came into his mind.

'I have seen a face sometimes as I passed through the convent garden
which is exactly what I want,' he cried. 'If thou wouldst but let the
maiden sit where I can see her for a few hours each day, I can promise
thee that the Madonna will be finished as thou wouldst wish.'

The abbess stood in deep thought for a few minutes, for she was puzzled
to know what she should do.

'It is the child Lucrezia,' she thought to herself. 'She who was sent
here by her father, the noble Buti of Florence. She is but a novice
still, and there can be no harm in allowing her to lend her fair face
as a model for Our Lady.'

So she told Filippo it should be as he wished.

It was dull i