ht dwelt in the little
cottage-farm a short distance from his own home.

The child came several times to see the falcon. Suddenly his visits
ceased, but Ser Federigo had no inkling of the reason. The widow's only
child had fallen ill, and was pining away from some unknown malady. His
mother would not be comforted; she saw her darling already lying dead
before her distracted gaze, and no physician could give her any hope for
his cure. Sitting by the invalid's bedside she cried to him, "Is there
anything I can do to comfort thee, my child?"

At first the child remained silent, but when she besought him again and
again to tell her if there was anything on earth she could obtain for
him which might cause him to forget his suffering, he replied, "Yes,
there is one thing I want. I pray you give me Ser Federigo's falcon for
my own!"

The astonished mother could make no reply. Even for her darling's sake
she felt she could not ask such a favor from the lover she had once
treated with scorn. Besides, though she knew that any request of hers
would be at once granted by him, she knew also that the falcon was
renowned as the finest bird throughout the countryside, as well as being
the joy and pride of his master's heart. But the boy was fretful and
restless, and, fearing to thwart his whim lest his life should depend on
it, the poor mother promised to go and ask for the falcon on the very
next day.

"Will you promise faithfully to go, mother?" asked the boy.

"I will, indeed," replied the distracted lady, and, soothed by her
words, the child fell into a refreshing sleep.

The morrow was a bright September day, and Monna Giovanna felt hope
revive within her heart as she gazed on her child still peacefully
sleeping. The birds were singing sweetly and the dew lay heavy on the
grass as two lovely ladies, clothed in hoods and cloaks, passed through
the garden-gate into the woods, where the trees had just donned their
autumn dress of russet and gold. One of these ladies had her rich dark
hair closely covered by her hood. Her eyes were wet with tears, but her
face was only made more beautiful by its look of deep sorrow. Her
companion was a young girl who walked with light steps, her hood thrown
back, and her hair shining with its wealth of gold; her cheeks were
tinted like the apple-blossom, and her heart full of joyous thoughts.
These were Monna Giovanna and her friend, who, with thoughts intent on
their errand, hastened towards t