The owner of the Montelupo plate over the cottage door asked sixty francs for his family treasure. My friend borrowed a ladder, that he might have it down to examine. "No," said the owner; "you must buy it where it is, and pay for it first." Federico's fancy was caught with the pretty toy; he submitted to the hard terms, and paid the sixty francs. Little Grosso now mounted the ladder to bring down the plate. "I can't move it; it is cemented into the wall," he called to the new comer, standing below. So he borrowed a hammer and chisel, and ran nimbly up the ladder again and began chipping round the plate.

Immediately the whole village was on the spot, standing round, excited, chattering, watching the job. A noisy man, the cock of the village, slung himself forward and shouted strenuously. He demanded to know what they were doing: "That plate has been there for over a hundred years. It is a very important piece, and is worth much money. It is of great value. Who has bought it? What have you paid for it?"

"I have bought it," said my friend; "I have given sixty francs for it, and as you think it so valuable, I will sell it to you for sixty francs. Will you have it at the price I gave for it?"

Federico has a lovable disposition. He takes life placidly. He takes taxes placidly, he takes bad trade placidly, he takes the war placidly, he takes a human tornado placidly. The noisy man exploded--shouted louder and louder, and scattered his arms about in the air, gesticulating like the sails of a windmill racing in a stiff breeze, but he did not buy the village treasure. Grosso on the ladder kept on chipping round the plate, the crowd watching him critically.

Presently he called out, "Signore, the plate is in two pieces!" My friend said to the noisy man: "Do you want to buy the plate? It is in two pieces--you can have it for fifty francs." He did not take on, but continued talking, gesticulating, and exciting the onlookers. Grosso continued chipping round the plate. He called out again, "Signore, the plate is even in three pieces." So my friend said to the village bully, "You can have the plate for thirty francs." But he did not buy at the price. Grosso resumed his work, hacking round the plate. He called out again, "Signore, the plate is in many pieces!" So Federico shouted to the troublesome man: "Now is your chance; you can have the plate for twenty francs. I paid sixty for it; will you give me twenty?"

The man folded himself up and slunk off; the crowd also melted away, and Grosso went on chipping, and put fragment after fragment of the plate in his pocket as he released them from their cement setting. He came down the ladder with the broken plate in his pocket in ten pieces. They rode home to Bagni di Lucca, feeling a bit miserable on the journey. At Bagni di Lucca my friend comforted Grosso with a good dinner in the restaurant and gave him seven francs for his trouble. "And what about the plate?" said Grosso, when my friend bid him good-bye. "You keep it, Grosso. I don't want it." "No," said Grosso; "the plate is yours. You have treated me well and given me seven francs. I am more than satisfied." "Keep it," was the reply; and away Federico went home, just a little disappointed with the result of his expedition up the mountains. The lure of the Montelupo dish had proved a failure.

Next year he visited Bagni di Lucca in quest of antiques, and called upon Grosso the dealer. On entering the shop he saw the Montelupo plate hanging against the wall, looking gay as ever without visible crack or cleavage on it. The dealer had cunningly dove-tailed the plate together, and it looked faultless to the eye. "It is yours," said Grosso; "I have kept it for you. Customers wanted to buy it. I knew you would come again to see me." After much persuasion and a consideration, Federico took the plate home and hung it in his studio amongst a collection of treasured antiques which he has gathered round him there and are the joy of his heart. It was much admired, and the romance of its history, often related, was as often listened to with amusement and laughter.

One day a Florentine dealer visited the studio and fell in love with the Montelupo plate, and bought it for ninety francs.

VII

THE LURE OF PLUCK