always well-eyed by women.

But it seems that for all his asking he had little mind for the amorous
traffic, for he laughingly disengaged himself from the girls, and I said
to him, pretending to be jealous, "If you taste of their bounty, I shall
tell Monna Giovanna"--for so was named the lady he loved--"and then you
will weep red tears."

Messer Guido pointed to me with a mock air of indignation. "See what it
is," he said, "to take a traitor to one's heart." He ran his laughing
eyes over the little knot of us, and went on, "Sweet ladies, and you,
sour gentleman, I have news for you."

But I protested, drolling him, for it was always our custom when we met
to toss jests and mockery to and fro, as children toss a ball. "Do not
heed him," I said, "Guido's news is always eight days old."

Then the girls laughed at him, for I think in their hearts they were
vexed because he had not taken their kisses--at least, most of them; for
I have it in mind that Brigitta was content with my kissing and none
other. But Guido was not to be downed by their laughter.

"This is not an hour old," he said. "You should all be at the Signory.
The fair ladies of Florence have chosen Monna Beatrice, of the
Portinari, for the queen of their May festival, and will bear her about
the city presently in triumph."

Now this was no piece of news for me, but I was where I was for a
reason, which was to meet Messer Dante. It was news to the girls,
though, for Brigitta cried, "Monna Beatrice, she who has been away from
Florence these nine years?" and Jacintha questioned, "Monna Beatrice! Is
she daughter of Folco Portinari that builds hospitals?" and Barbara
sighed, "Monna Beatrice, whom some call the loveliest girl in the city?"

And Guido gave to their several questions a single answer: "Even she.
For her beauty's sake and in compliment to Messer Folco, because he
builds hospitals."

Now, though I had little interest in this news of Guido's, I was so glad
of his coming that I was as ready to be rid of the girls by this time as
I had been eager before to keep them about me. So I waved my hand at
them as housewives wave their hands to scare the chickens, and I called
to them: "So! Away with you girls to join the merry-making. I will kiss
you all another day."

Then the girls began to mock at me again, and Jacintha hailed me as
prince of poets, and Brigitta, half laughing and half earnest, called me
prince of lovers, and Barbara shot out her pink t