"Thy work looks well, Ambrogio," he said, and removing a similar covering from the easel by which Ambrogio sat, gazed at the companion panel on which was depicted the archangel Michael. "But mine is better," he added, "as it should be: thy work will improve with thy years."
"'Tis as fine work as thy St. Michael, father," said Graziosa, "and a good likeness."
"Nay, not so fair by half as thou art," murmured Ambrogio. "Thou art not easy to copy, Graziosa."
Agnolo was studying his picture intently.
"'Twas an idle fancy to take thee as my model for St. Michael," he said at length. "Thou dost not inspire me as St. Michael, Ambrogio."
"As what then?" asked his daughter, smiling at her father's earnestness.
Agnolo laughed.
"As no saint at all," he said. "He is like nothing but the wicked young man reclaimed in the legend of St. Francis, and not very reclaimed either!"
Graziosa smiled still more, but Ambrogio faintly flushed and bit his lip.