new all the verses of Guido
Guinicelli by root of heart, and to hear her repeat that poem of his
beginning,

"Love ever dwells within the gentle heart,"

what time she touched a lute to soft notes of complaining and praise and
patience and desire, was to make, for the moment, even the most obdurate
understand her charm. But if I at all seem to disfavor her, it may be
because she was too costly a toy for such as I, save, indeed, when she
condescended to do a grace, for kindness' sake, to one whose revenues
were of small estate. It is plain that such ladies have their
fascination, and in a measure I admit it, but, day in and day out, I
prefer my jolly dollimops. This has ever been my opinion and always will
be, and I think those are the likelier to go happy that think like me.

IX

MADONNA VITTORIA SOUNDS A WARNING

Madonna Vittoria received me so very graciously that for a while I began
to think no little good of myself, and to reconsider my latest opinion
as to the value of poets and poetry in the eyes of such ladies. But this
mood of self-esteem was not fated to be of long duration. After some
gracious words of praise for my verses, which made me pleased to find
her so wise in judgment, she came very swiftly to the purpose for which
she had summoned me, and that purpose was not at all to share in the
delight of my society.

"Are you not a friend," she said, very gravely, "of young Dante of the
Alighieri?"

I made answer that for my own poor part I counted myself his very dear
and devoted friend, and that I had reason to believe that he held me in
some affection. I was not a little surprised at this sudden introduction
of Messer Dante into our conversation, and began to wonder if by any
chance Monna Vittoria had taken a fancy to him. Such women have such
whims at times. However, I was not long left in doubt as to her meaning.

"If you are a true friend to him," she said, "you would do well to
counsel him to go warily and to have a care of Messer Simone of the
Bardi, for I am very sure that he means to do him a mischief when time
shall serve."

Now I had seen nothing of Dante since that day of the little bicker with
Simone, long weeks earlier, but as I had heard by chance that he was
busy with the practice of sword-craft, I took it for granted that he was
thus keeping his promise to a certain lady, and was by no means
distressed at his absence. As for Messer Simone, he went his ways in
Florence