Atalanta. Yes—tell me about the cavalier servant.
Benvenuta. That was all I ever saw of him. But he was very worldly, I am sure.
Atalanta. I wish you had seen more of him. And your mother? Did she have little children?
Benvenuta. You know well I was the youngest of our family. That was why I was destined for the benefice we possessed in this high born convent.
Atalanta. Tell me about your father?
Benvenuta. I used only to see him once in a month, and I was much frightened of him—he was so noble and so just.
Atalanta. Oh, he was a father of that sort, was he?
Benvenuta. And when he did receive me, he had a handkerchief like a turban around his head, and horn spectacles on his nose, and he would be making gold with an astrologer, or putting devils in retorts. That was what he said he was doing, but I know now that he deceived me; he was a very worldly man, though he was so noble and just.
Atalanta. Tell me, Benvenuta, when you were in the world, did you ever see mothers and babies—tiny babies—not old at all?
Benvenuta. The only one was in the picture in our chapel—the panel in the center with the Blessed Mother and the little Child Christ. He was so sweet, and his eyes were as if they would open in a moment and then I should know what color of eyes they were.