Lo! my soul, I offer thee
A most sov'ran remedy,
Worthy cure for every ill,
Called by man a madness still.'
A man on crutches, paralysed but not old, his face quivering like the wing of a wounded bird, approached Fra Domenico Buonvicino and handed him a parcel.
'What is it,' asked the friar; 'more drawings?'
'A matter of anatomy. Yesterday I forgot to hand it over, but to-night a voice reproved me: "Sandro," it said, "you have still some 'vanities and anathemata' in the loft above your shop." So I got up and hunted for these drawings of nude bodies.'
The monk took the parcel with a good-natured smile.
'We shall light a famous fire, Ser Filippepi!' he said.
The paralytic looked at the pyramid and heaved a profound sigh.