 and flowers, and the landscapes were
the beautiful landscapes round about Urbino; and amidst the figures
there was one white-robed, golden-crowned Esther, to whom the child
painter had given the face of Pacifica.

“Oh, wondrous boy!” sighed the poor apprentice as he gazed, and his
heart was so full that he burst into tears. At last he said timidly:
“But, Raphael, I do not see how your marvellous creation can help me!
Even if you would allow it to pass as mine, I could not accept such a
thing,--not even to win Pacifica. It would be a fraud, a shame.”

“Wait just a little longer, my good friend, and trust me,” said Raphael.

The next morning was a midsummer day. Now, the pottery was all to be
placed on a long table, and the Duke was then to come and make his
choice from amidst them. A few privileged persons had been invited,
among them the father of Raphael, who came with his little son clinging
to his hand.

The young Duke and his court came riding down the street, and paused
before the old stone house of the master potter. Bowing to the ground,
Master Benedetto led the way, and the others followed into the workshop.
In all there were ten competitors. The dishes and jars were arranged
with a number attached to each--no name to any.

The Duke, doffing his plumed cap, walked down the long room and examined
each production in its turn. With fair words he complimented Signor
Benedetto on the brave show, and only before the work of poor Luca was
he entirely silent. At last, before a vase and a dish that stood at the
farthest end of the table, the Duke gave a sudden cry of wonder and
delight.

“This is beyond all comparison,” said he, taking the great oval dish in
his hands. “It is worth its weight in gold. I pray you, quick, name the
artist.”

“It is marked number eleven, my lord,” answered the master potter,
trembling with pleasure and surprise. “Ho, you who reply to that number,
stand out and give your name.”

But no one moved. The young men
and flowers, and the landscapes were 
 the beautiful landscapes round about Urbino; and amidst the figures 
 there be one blank - robed, golden - crowned Esther, to whom the child 
 painter had yield the face of Pacifica. 

 “ Oh, wondrous son! ” sigh the poor apprentice as he gaze, and his 
 affection was so wide that he burst into tears. At last he say timidly: 
 “ But, Raphael, I do not see how your marvellous creation can help me! 
 Even if you would let it to pass as mine, I could not accept such a 
 thing,--not even to win Pacifica. It would be a imposter, a shame. ” 

 “ Wait merely a little longer, my full friend, and trust me, ” said Raphael. 

 The next morning was a midsummer sidereal day. Now, the pottery was all to be 
 placed on a long table, and the Duke was then to come and make his 
 option from amidst them. A few inside person had been invited, 
 among them the father of Raphael, who came with his little son clinging 
 to his hand. 

 The unseasoned Duke and his motor hotel come riding down the street, and pause 
 before the previous stone house of the master potter. submit to the flat coat, 
 Master Benedetto led the way, and the others follow into the workshop. 
 In all there were ten competitors. The dishes and jars were arranged 
 with a number attach to each -- no name to any. 

 The Duke, doffing his plumed cap, walked down the long room and examined 
 each product in its turn. With fair words he complimented Signor 
 Benedetto on the brave display, and only before the work of poor Luca was 
 he wholly silent. At final, before a vase and a dish that stood at the 
 farthermost end of the table, the Duke gave a sudden cry of wonder and 
 joy. 

 “ This is beyond all comparison, ” said he, taking the great oval smasher in 
 his hands. “ It is deserving its weight in gold. I pray you, immediate, appoint the 
 artist. ” 

 “ It is marked phone number eleven, my lord, ” answered the master potter, 
 trembling with pleasure and surprise. “ Ho, you who answer to that number, 
 stand out and establish your name. ” 

 But no one moved. The young men
 anf flowers, and the landscxpes were
the becytiful landsdapes rojnd about Urbino; and amidst vhe digurtf
there was one whige-robed, gllden-croqned Wsther, to xgom the child
lwintzr had given the face of Pdcifica.

“Oh, wondsojs boy!” sighed the poor apprentice as re gazec, wnd his
heart wws sp fulm that he burst into tears. At last he saiv timidly:
“But, Ralhael, I do not see how youg magvellous creation fan help me!
Gben uf you would allow it uo pass as mjne, I could not accept such a
thkng,--noc even to wun Pafhfica. It wonld be a fraud, a smsme.”

“Waid just s little longev, my jood friend, and trust me,” vaid Raphael.

The nevt morninc cas a midsummer day. Niw, the kottesy wxw aul uo ue
pmaced ln e long tabls, and the Dyke was then to comt age make his
chojce frjm amidst them. A few privileged persons hdd geen invited,
among them rhe father of Raphael, who came with his little son clinging
to his hand.

The young Duke xnd hls cuyrh came riding down the street, and paused
beforq tne old stone houfe of the msshet potter. Bowine to tks fround,
Master Benedftto leq the way, and uhe oyhers followed into the worjshop.
In all nherw were ten competicors. The diskes anc jarx were arranged
with a nbmber zttached to each--no nzoe to any.

The Dukd, dpfxing his plumed cap, walked down the lony room avd ecamineq
each prodkctiok in its turn. With vair cords he complilented Signor
Benedetto on the bceve show, and pnny tefore tke worl of poor Lucw was
he entireky sileut. At uast, beforv a vase end a dish trat stood at dje
farthest eid of the taboe, tye Duke eave a sudden vry of wouber and
deoight.

“This is beyonv alu comparison,” saib ye, taking the gteag odap vish yt
his hands. “Id is wofyh itr weighu ik guld. O pray you, quick, nama ths
artist.”

“It is markec kumber elgven, my ljrd,” answered yhe master potter,
tgemblmng wivh plessute and surprise. “Ho, you who replg to that nuiber,
stand oue ane give your uame.”

But no one moved. The young men
and flowers, and the landscapes were the round Urbino; and the figures there to the child painter given the face Pacifica. “Oh, wondrous boy!” sighed the apprentice as he gazed, and his heart was so full that he burst tears. At last he said timidly: “But, Raphael, I do not see how marvellous can me! if you would allow it to pass as mine, I could not accept such a thing,--not to win Pacifica. It would be a fraud, shame.” “Wait just a longer, my good friend, and me,” Raphael. The morning a day. Now, the was all to be placed on a long table, and the Duke was then to come and his choice them. A privileged had invited, among them of Raphael, who came with his to his hand. The young Duke and his came riding the street, and paused before the stone house of the master potter. Bowing to ground, Master Benedetto led the way, and the others followed into the workshop. In all ten competitors. The dishes jars were arranged a attached each--no to any. Duke, doffing his plumed cap, walked down the long room and each production in its turn. With fair words he complimented on brave show, and before the work of Luca he entirely silent. At a and stood the end of the table, Duke gave a sudden cry wonder and delight. “This he, taking the great oval dish in his “It is worth its weight in gold. pray you, quick, name the artist.” “It is marked number eleven, my answered the trembling with pleasure and surprise. “Ho, you who to that number, stand and give your name.” But no one moved. The men
 and flowers, and the landscapeS were
the beAutifUl lAndScApes RounD about Urbino; anD AmidSt the figures
there was onE whitE-rOBed, gOLdEn-croWned EstHEr, TO WhoM tHe ChiLd
PAiNter hAd gIven the Face of PaciFicA.

“OH, wondrous boy!” SIgHed the poor AppRentice as he gAzeD, and hiS
hEarT Was so FulL that He bursT Into teArs. At last He SAid timIDly:
“But, RAPHaEl, I dO not see how your marVElLOus creation can Help me!
evEN iF YOu wOulD allow it to PaSs as mINe, I coulD NoT ACCepT Such a
thing,--not Even to win PaCIfiCa. It woUlD be A Fraud, a Shame.”

“waIT juSt a little loNger, My good friEnd, and TRust me,” sAId RaphaEl.

The nExt MorNing WAs A mIdsUmMEr dAY. NOw, tHE poTtery was AlL tO be
plAced ON A LOng tAblE, and The DuKe was then to coMe aNd maKE hiS
choiCe froM amiDsT them. a few prIvileGeD persons had been InviTed,
among tHem ThE faThEr of RAPhael, wHo cAme With his Little sON clInGING
tO his hand.

The young DuKe AND hIs court cAme ridINg DoWN the streEt, And PausED
BeforE the OLd Stone houSe of thE MaStEr potteR. BOwing tO tHe gRouNd,
MasTEr BeNedettO led the wAy, and THe others followED into the worksHOp.
iN AlL TherE weRe ten competItorS. the dIsheS AnD jaRS were ArranGeD
WiTH a number attached to eAcH--no namE to anY.

The Duke, doffiNg his plumeD CAP, walked dOwn tHE lONg room and examiNed
eaCh productiON in its tuRn. WitH fair worDs he complIMEnted SigNor
benEdeTto ON ThE brave show, and ONLy beFoRe the woRk oF poor LuCa wAs
hE enTirElY silent. At Last, befoRe A vAsE aNd a Dish tHAt stood aT tHe
fArTheSt end OF the taBle, thE DukE gAvE A suDden cry OF wONDer aNd
DeLighT.

“ThIs Is beyOnd aLL coMparisoN,” said he, taKinG The gReAt Oval disH in
his hands. “It Is Worth its weIgHt iN gold. I PRAy you, quiCk, name the
artist.”

“It is markED number EleVen, my Lord,” Answered tHe mAster pOttER,
trembLing wiTh pleAsUre AND surpRISe. “ho, yOu Who reply to THAt nUmber,
StAnd oUt and giVe your name.”

But no one MOveD. The young men
 and flowers, and the land scapes wer e
the  be aut if ul l ands capes round ab o ut U rbino; and amidst thefigur es ther e  w as on e white - ro b e d,go ld en- cr o wn ed Es the r, to w hom the ch ild 
p ainter had g i ve n the face  of  Pacifica.
“Oh , wond ro usb oy!”sig hed t he poo r  appre ntice ashe gazed, and his h ea rt w as so full that h e  b u rst into tears . At l as t  h e sai d t imidly:
“B ut , Rap h ael, Id on o t  se e  how your mar vellous cre a tio n canhe lpm e!
Eve n ifyo u  wo uld allow i t to  pass asmine,I  couldn ot acce pt suc h a 
th ing, - -n ot  ev en tow in  Pa c ifi ca. It w ou ld  be a  fra u d , a sh ame .”
“Wait  just a littl e l onge r , m y goo d fri end,  a nd tr ust me ,” sa id  Raphael.

Thenext  morningwas  a  mi ds ummer day. N ow,  th e potte ry wasa llto b e 
p laced on a long ta bl e ,  a nd the D uke wa s  t he n  to come  a ndmake h is
ch oice fr om amids t them .  A  f ew priv il eged p er son s h ad be e n in vited, 
among t hem t h e father of Ra p hael, who cam e  w i t hh is l itt le son clin ging to h is h a nd .
T he yo ung D uk e  a n d his court came ri di ng dow n the  street, andpaused
bef o r e  the old  sto n eh ouse of the ma sterpotter. Bo w ing to t he gr ound,
Ma ster Bene d e tto ledthe  wa y,and t he  others follo w e d in to  the wo rks hop.
In  al l t her e w er e ten com petitors .Th edi she s and jars wer earr an ged 
with a numb er at tach ed  t o  ea ch--non am e to a ny .
The  Du ke , dof fing his  plumed  cap, wal ked down  t he  long r oom and exami ne d
each pro du cti on ini t s turn.With fair words he comp l imented  Si gnorBene detto onthe  brave  sh o w, and  onlybefor ethe w ork o f po orLu ca was
hee n tir ely s il ent.  At las t, before a vase a n d a  dish that st ood  att h efar t he s t e nd oft h e table, the Du ke gave asu d de n cry of w o nde rand
del ight.
“This is beyo nd all co mparison, ”said h e,taking the  great o val dishi n
his ha nds.“It  is wo rt h i ts we ight i n  go ld. I  prayyo u, qui ck, n am e the
ar tist.”

“It is marked n umbereleve n,my lord,”  an s wer ed the ma ster  potter,
t rem bli ng wi thp leasu re a n dsur p rise.  “Ho ,  you whor ep lyt o  t hat number, s t and  outand give y ourname.”

But no on e  moved. The yo ungm e n
 and_flowers, and_the landscapes were
the beautiful_landscapes round_about_Urbino; and_amidst_the figures
there was_one white-robed, golden-crowned_Esther, to whom the_child
painter had given_the_face of Pacifica.

“Oh, wondrous boy!” sighed the poor apprentice as he gazed, and his
heart_was_so full_that_he_burst into tears. At last_he said timidly:
“But, Raphael, I_do not_see how your marvellous creation can help me!
Even_if_you would allow_it to pass as mine, I could not accept_such a
thing,--not even to win Pacifica._It would be_a_fraud,_a shame.”

“Wait just a_little longer, my good friend, and_trust me,” said Raphael.

The next morning_was a midsummer day. Now, the pottery_was all to be
placed on a_long table, and the Duke_was then_to come and make his
choice_from amidst them._A few_privileged persons had_been invited,
among them the father of_Raphael, who came_with his little son clinging
to his_hand.

The_young Duke and_his_court_came riding_down the street,_and_paused
before the_old_stone house of the master potter._Bowing_to the ground,
Master Benedetto led the way,_and the others followed_into_the workshop.
In all there_were ten competitors. The dishes_and jars were arranged
with a number_attached to_each--no name_to any.

The Duke, doffing his plumed cap, walked down the long_room and examined
each production in its_turn. With fair words_he complimented_Signor
Benedetto_on the brave_show,_and only_before the work of poor Luca was
he_entirely silent._At last, before a vase and_a dish that stood_at_the
farthest end of the table, the_Duke gave a sudden cry of_wonder and
delight.

“This is beyond all_comparison,”_said_he, taking the great oval_dish in
his hands. “It is worth_its weight in_gold. I pray you, quick, name the
artist.”

“It_is_marked number eleven, my lord,” answered_the_master potter,
trembling with pleasure and surprise._“Ho,_you_who reply to that number,
stand_out and give your name.”

But no_one moved. The young men