I take these rights and I give them over to my
dear friend Luca of Fano, because he is the honestest man in all
the world, and does honor Signor Benedetto and love Pacifica as no
other can do so well, and Pacifica loves him, and my lord duke
will say that thus all will be well."
So with the grave, innocent audacity of a child he spoke--this
seven-year-old painter who was greater than any there.
Signor Benedetto stood mute, sombre, agitated. Luca had sprung
forward and dropped on one knee; he was as pale as ashes.
Raffaelle looked at him with a smile.
"My lord duke," he said, with his little gentle smile, "you have
chosen my work; defend me in my rights."
"Listen to the voice of an angel, my good Benedetto; heaven speaks
by him," said Guidobaldo, gravely, laying his hand on the arm of
his master-potter.
Harsh Signor Benedetto burst into tears.
"I can refuse him nothing," he said, with a sob. "He will give
such glory unto Urbino as never the world hath seen!"
"And call down this fair Pacifica whom Raffaelle has won," said
the sovereign of the duchy, "and I will give her myself as her
dower as many gold pieces as we can cram into this famous vase. An
honest youth who loves her and whom she loves--what better can you
do, Benedetto? Young man, rise up and be happy. An angel has
descended on earth this day for you.
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