ll carved and
painted. But the scale did not drop an inch.

At this the Banker was sorely disquieted.

"Good St. Michael! think again. You have not put this side of the
balance my fine holy-water stoup I gave to San Giovanni, nor the pulpit
in Sant' Andrea, where the baptism of Our Lord Jesus Christ is depicted
life-size. The artist charged me a pretty penny for it."

The Archangel put both pulpit and stoup atop of the Hospital in the
scale, but still it never stirred. Nicolas Nerli began to feel a cold
sweat bathing his brow.

"Good Sir! dear Archangel!" he asked, "are you quite certain your
balances are true?"

St. Michael replied, smiling, that they were of a different pattern from
the balances the brokers of Paris use and the money-changers of Venice,
and were precisely accurate.

"What!" sighed Nicolas Nerli, his face as white as chalk. "Duomo,
pulpit, basin, Hospital with all its beds, do they weigh no more than a
bit of straw, a pinch of down from a bird's breast?"

"See for yourself, Nicolas!" said the Archangel; "so far the weight of
your iniquities much outweighs the light load of your good works."

"Then I must go to Hell," cried the Florentine; and his teeth chattered
with horror.

"Patience, Nicolas Nerli," returned the Weigher of Souls, "patience! we
are not done yet. There is something left."

So saying, the Blessed St. Michael took the loaves of black bread the
rich man had tossed the night before to the poor beggars. He laid them
in the scale containing the good works, which instantly fell, while the
other rose, and the two scales remained level. The beam dropped neither
to right nor left, and the needle marked the exact equality of the two
loads.

The Banker could not believe his eyes; but the glorious Archangel said
solemnly:

"See, Nicolas Nerli; you are good neither for Heaven nor Hell. Begone!
Go back to Florence! multiply through the city the loaves you gave last
night with your own hand, in the dusk, when no man saw you--and you
shall be saved. It is not enough that Heaven open its doors to the thief
that repented and the harlot that wept. The mercy of God is infinite,
and able to save even a rich man. Do this; multiply the loaves whose
weight you see weighing down my balances. Begone!"

Then Nicholas Nerli awoke in his bed. He resolved to follow faithfully
the counsel of the Archangel, and multiply the bread of the poor, and
so enter into the kingdom of Heaven.

For the three