“‘Thou hast boasted that thou art the best smith in the world, and canst work such wonders in shoeing as man never beheld. Canst thou not shoe this horse without taking him to the forge?’
“‘Neither thou, nor I, nor any man can do it,’ replied the smith.
“Saint Peter took the hoof in his left hand, gave it a rap with the side of his right across the joint, and the hoof fell off. Then Saint Peter carried it to the anvil, fastened a new shoe on it, returned and put it on the horse again, who stamped with it as if nothing had happened.
“Now the smith, like all boasters, was a great fool, and he only thought that this was something which he had not learned before, and so cried boldly, ‘Oh, that is only the Bolognese manner of taking hoofs off and putting them on—we do it much better here in Florence!’ So he seized the horse’s hoof, and with one blow of a hatchet cut it off.
“‘And now put it on again,’ said Saint Peter. The smith tried, but it would not stick.
“‘The horse is bleeding to death rapidly,’ remarked the Saint.
“‘I believe,’ said the smith ruefully, ‘that I am a fool in folio.’
“‘Più matto che un granchio—as crazy as a crawfish,’ solemnly added one of his assistants.
“‘Pazzo a bandiera—as wild and witless as a flapping flag,’ quoth another.
“‘Matto di sette cotte—an idiot seven times baked,’ chimed in Saint Peter.