Albeit I suffered him to recite these lines to the end I turned from him with a countenance of great wrath, and tore the paper whereon they were writ in two halves which I flung behind the stove.  Nor did I put away my angry and offended mien until he had right humbly besought my forgiveness.  Yet when I had granted it, and he presently quitted the chamber, I did, I confess, gather up the torn paper and bestow it in my girdle-poke.  Nay, meseems that I had of intent rent it only in twain, to the end that I might the better join it again.  Thus to this day it lieth in my chest, with other relics of the past; yet I verily believe that another Sonnet, which Sir Giacomo found on the morrow, laid on his easel, was not so treasured by him.  It was thus: 

     “There was one Hans, and he was fain to try,
     Like to Olympian Jove, the magic arts
     Of witchcraft upon some well-favored maid. 
     Bold the adventure, but the prize how sweet! 
     ‘Farewell, good wife,’ quoth he, ’Or e’er the dawn
     Hath broke I must be forward on my way. 
     Like Jupiter I will be blessed and bless
     With love; and in the image of a swan.’

     “The magic spell hath changed him.  With a wreath
     About his head he deems he lacketh nought
     Of what may best beguile a maiden’s soul.

     “Thus to fair Leda flies the hapless wight.—­
     With boisterous mirth the dame beholds the bird. 
     ‘A right fine goose!  Thou’lt make a goodly roast.’”

Howbeit Giacomo would not leave this verse without reply; and to this day, if you look close into the picture, you may see a goose’s head deep in shade among the shrubs in the back part of it, but clearly to be discerned.

Notwithstanding many such little quarrels we liked each other well, and I may here note that when, in the following year, which was the year of our Lord one thousand four hundred and twenty-six, a little son was born to him, since grown to be a right famous painter, known as Giambellini—­which is to say Giovanni, or Hans, Bellini, I, Margery Schopper, stood his sponsor at the font.  Yea and I was ever a true godsib to him, and that painter might indeed thank my kith and kin when he was charged with a certain office in the Fondaco in Venice, which is worth some hundreds of ducats yearly to him, to this day.

Thus were the portraits ended, and when I behold my own looking from the wide frame with so mirthful and yet so longing a gaze, meseems that Giacomo must have read the book of my soul and have known right well how to present that he saw therein; at that time in truth I was a happy young creature, and the aching and longing which would now and again come over me, in part for him who was gone, and in part I wist not for what, were but the shadow which must ever fall where there is light.  And verily I had good cause to be thankful and of good cheer; I was in health as sound as a trout in the brook, and had good chances for making the most of those humble gifts and powers wherewith I was blessed.