File:St. Nicholas (serial) (1915) (14784601405).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial4311dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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wondered what Pas-quali would think, Pasquali, who had taunted himwith being too much of a coward to try his for-tune in the city. Giotto did not lead his sheep to the slopes nextday, nor any day thereafter. But all through thegolden summer, when around Fiesole were bil-lows of many-colored bloom, and his own hills ofVespignano were painted with orange and russet,he worked with Cimabue at the castle. Everymorning, when the sunrise tints still hung likeflaming poppies along the peaks, he went from thehut in the village, and he came back again atnight to dream of his brushes and colors. Thecount let one of his own shepherds tend the Bon-done flock, so his studies brought no hardship to I9I5-) A SHEPHERD LAD OF TUSCANY 33 his people, and, as all the villagers loved him, soall were glad that he was to be a painter. Meanwhile, in fair Florence, Pasquali waslearning that the city is a monster waiting to de-vour those who approach her friendless andempty-handed. Day after day he tramped the
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THF.N GHl l l O VVl;\ r TO l lli: CI I V streets from one shop to another, and up todoors of great houses where many servants wereemployed, looking for work, and always he wasmet with the question, What can you do? In Vespignano I was a shepherd, he wouldreply. But the life was dull, so I came away. Better go back, those disjiosed to be kindwould say. The city is no place for countrylads. While others drove him away with angrywords. For weeks he slept under the sky and ate thebread of charity. Then, sick and discouraged, hestarted back to Vespignano. Giotto, on his way home from the castle oneevening, saw the weary, foot-sore lad go towardthe hut that had once been his home, and won-dered if it could be Pasquali,^^^H^^jHHjjii^l who had been so eager to^I^HflHn U get away. Plunger had madelb ^yMKU hollows in his cheeks, and■tf t^^HM&H Qj.,)y lYie soft, dark eyes, andthe hair curling about thebrow in the old way madehim sure it was his friend. Pasquali viio, he called,falling into

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