to possess, a garden which, it was said, had
belonged in old time to a great noble of the stately Roman days. This
colonnade, be it noted, for all it looked so open and amiable, could be
shut off, if need were, by sliding doors, so as to make the room
defensible whenever the war-cries rattled in the streets and Guelph and
Ghibelline or Red and Yellow met in deadly grips together.

When I arrived, and I was among the earliest visitors, for I dearly
loved all manner of merry-making, and thought it foolish to stand upon
my dignity and seem indifferent to mirth, and so come late and lose
pleasure--when I arrived, I say, the musicians were tuning their lutes
in the gallery on high, and Messer Folco was standing before the doorway
greeting his guests. Those that had forestalled me were moving hither
and thither over the smooth floor, and staring, for lack of other
employment, at the splendid tapestries, and impatient enough for the
dancing and the feasting to begin. And then, because I wished to be
courteous as becomes the careful guest, I wrung by his hand Messer
Folco, who, as I think, had no notion, or at best the dimmest, of who I
was, and I said to him, "Blessed be Heaven, Messer Folco, 'tis good to
have such a man as you in Florence."

To which Messer Folco answered, returning with dignity my friendly
pressure, "'Tis good for any man to be in Florence; there is no place
like Florence from here to world's end."

And then, as I stood something agape and framing a further speech,
another guest pushed by me and clasped Messer Folco's hand and addressed
him, saying, "So you have started a-building your new hospital. Will you
never have done being generous?"

And because it always amuses me to watch give and take of talk between
human beings, I stood off one side, Messer Folco having done with me and
forgotten me, and listened to the traffic of voices and the bandying of
compliments, and heard Messer Folco respond, "One that is happy enough
to be a citizen of Florence should be grateful for the favor."

"Well," said the new-comer, whom I knew very well to be one that made
the most of his great monies by usury--"well," says he, "a man cannot
spend money better than by benefiting the disinherited."

To which Messer Folco, eying him with gravity, and having, as I make no
doubt, his own opinion, answered, "So I think."

Now, by this time the enthusiastic usurer had said his say and had his
audience, and was straightway pus