Wiseli replied, between her sobs, that the neighbor had sent her to ask her cousin Gotti to come quickly to her mother. Probably the woman suspected, from the child's look, that her mother was more ill, for she spoke a little less roughly than usual. "I will tell him. You can go home: he is not here now."

"So," said her cousin, "now we will go," and turned towards the door; but Wiseli sobbed out suddenly, "Then I must leave my mother all alone." With these words she ran to her mother, and clasped her in her arms again. Her cousin Gotti stood rather disconcerted, and looked on.

Quickly taking leave, she waited only for Wiseli to give her cousin Gotti her hand. He said, "Oh, you are soon coming back; this is not a separation." Off trotted Wiseli in silence, and much astonished, behind Mrs.

The long days of summer came, with more and more work to be done in the fields, and work that was ever hotter and hotter. Wiseli felt this keenly when her cousin Gotti called her out to help with the haymaking, and the heavy rake was so hard for her to lift; or, worse still, to handle the clumsy wooden fork when the hay needed spreading in the sun to dry.

Cellini, the impassioned admirer of Michael Angelo, esteemed this cartoon so highly, that he writes: "Sebbene il divino Michelagnolo fece la gran cappella di Papa Julio da poi, non arrivò mai a questo segno alla meta: la sua virtù non aggiunse mai da poi alla forza di quei primi studj." The cartoon was probably exhibited in 1505. See Gotti, vol. i. p. 35. Gotti, pp. 277-282.

"You must not be frightened, my child," said her cousin Gotti, in a kindly tone. "There are more people in our house than there are here, but it is all the more lively for that." Wiseli put her things silently together in a shawl, and tied the two corners together crosswise; then she tied her scarf about her head, and stood ready.

It is surely strained criticism to conjecture, as Gotti has done, that these epistles were meant for Vittoria, though written to Cavalieri.

Yes: already she heard a calling from the kitchen, and her cousin Gotti called her by name, he stood at the well, and saw her looking out of the window. "Make haste, make haste, Wiseli; it is time to be off: the boys are half-way to school. All the hay is in: make haste and go too." She did not wait till he told this twice. Like a flash she snatched her satchel and was off.

Just as she and her cousin Gotti went together across the field, Trine came towards them down the road, with a covered basket on her arm. The neighbor stood in the doorway, and looked after the departing couple. Trine went towards her, saying, "To-day I am bringing the sick woman something good. A little late, to be sure. We have Uncle Max on a visit to us: that always makes me late."

The child swallowed her sobs, and followed the cousin Gotti silently through the door. Once only she glanced backward, and said softly, "God will watch over you, mother;" and then went forth with her bundle on her arm, and left the little house which had been home to her.