“Ah, but you should have seen the great procession through Florence, when all the little children were inspired by the heavenly preaching of our blessed Master. These dear little ones, carrying the blessed cross and singing the hymns our Master had written for them, went from house to house and church to church, demanding that everything that was vile and base should be delivered up to the flames; and the people, beholding, thought that the angels had indeed come down, so they brought forth all their loose pictures and vile books, such as Boccaccio’s romances and other defilements, and the children made a great bonfire of them in the Grand Piazza, and thus thousands of vile things were consumed and scattered. And then our blessed Master exhorted the artists to give their pencils to Christ and his Mother, and to seek for her image among pious and holy women living a veiled and secluded life, like that our Lady lived before the blessed Annunciation. ‘Think you,’ he continued, ‘that the blessed Angelico obtained the grace to set forth our Lady in such heavenly wise, by gazing about the streets on mincing women tricked out in all the world’s bravery?—Did he not find her image in holy solitudes, among modest and prayerful saints?’” “Ah,” exclaimed Agnes, drawing in her breath with an expression of awe, “what mortal would dare to sit for the image of our Lady!” “Dear child, there be women whom the Lord crowns with beauty when they know it not, and our dear Mother sheds so much of her spirit into their hearts that it shines out in their faces; among such must the painter look. Dear little child, be not ignorant that our Lord hath shed this great grace on thee. I have received a light that thou art to be the model for the ‘Hail, Mary!’ in my Breviary.” “Oh, no, no, no! it cannot be!” cried Agnes, covering her face. “My daughter, thou art very beautiful, and this beauty was given thee not for thyself, but to be laid like a sweet flower on the altar of thy Lord. Think how blessed, if, through thee, the faithful be reminded of the modesty and humility of Mary, so that their prayers become more fervent! Would it not be a great grace?” “Dear uncle,” replied Agnes, “I am Christ’s child. If it be as you say,—which I did not know,—give me some days to pray and prepare my soul, that I may offer myself in all humility.” During this conversation Elsie had left the garden and gone a little way down the gorge, to have a few moments of gossip with an old crony of hers. The light of the evening sky had gradually faded away, and the full moon was pouring a shower of silver upon the orange-trees. As Agnes sat on the parapet, with the moonlight streaming down on her young, spiritual face, now tremulous with deep suppressed emotion, the painter thought he had never seen any human creature that looked nearer to his conception of a celestial being.