plied the boy; "for mine is over when the thing is completed. By the bye, did your father throw away any of his modelling clay two days ago? I want some."

"Oh! yes, he did; but what did you do with the funny little man you made last week, with the hoofs and horns, you know?" said Angela.

"And how often did I tell you it was not a little man, nor meant for one, you incorrigible piece of forgetfulness?" answered Leonardo, smiling.

66

Oh, dear! to be sure, what was it you called it? Tell me again once more, Leone!" “A Faun,” said the boy. "Why, surely, you never saw a man with hoofs like a goat?"

"No, perhaps not," answered the child, thoughtfully; "but I have never seen a Faun either. Where did you see one, Leone? it is very ugly."

To this Leonardo replied only by laughing, and it required all Angela's perseverance to make her companion be serious, and confess he had never seen Fauns, except in an old picture, and had broken up his imitation of them.

"You will model something pretty though, Leone, if I bring you some clay," resumed

Angela," " and give it me too, do you hear? I have a number of things, in my closet, now of yours, and I set them straight every day. But I don't show them to any body, except old Veronica sometimes. For what do you think, Leone? Once, when my father came into my room, there was a drawing you had given me lying on a chair; it was the head of the little child-you remember it—and when my father saw it, he took it up and said, How often have I given orders that no drawings or things whatever are to be taken away from my studio, or any other room where I may leave them, whether they be mine or my pupils'!' And so he took it away with him, and I have not seen it since."

Leonardo had not at first listened very attentively to Angela, but towards the end of her speech, when she unconsciously imitated her father's manner, he became suddenly more interested.

"What!" he exclaimed, "is it possible your father should have mistaken my drawing for that of one of his pupils ?"

"I suppose so," answered the child; "and it was the one I liked best too.

But now you

have brought me so many to-day, I don't care that he took it."

"But I do!" exclaimed Leonardo, springing up with sudden energy, "though he may have found out his mistake later." The boy remained a few instants occupied with some pleasing reflection, and then again seating himself-"Do you know, Angela," said he, "I am continually thinking of what I shall do when I am grown up,-what I shall be, I mean; there are very few great men in the world - how glorious, therefore, to be one of them!"

"Veronica," said Angela, "says that you are a born soldier; but that would take you away so far, I will not let you be one. You must always be here, you know."

"Ah! must I?" answered the young Da Vinci, kissing his little companion's forehead: "but how can that be, if I am to become a great man? I must go to the city yonder, and learn all that great men know. What can I do here?"

"Oh! the Padre will teach you, Leone; he is so clever, Veronica says. You know he can repeat the whole mass from beginning to end without once looking in his book!”

"Can he? Have you watched him so well?"

said Leonardo, slyly. "I will tell him tomorrow how attentive you are."

"I will pull your hair if you do.

Take care!"

finger in a

answered the child, putting up a threatening way; "and promise me not to talk of being a great man, if you must go away to become one. What should I do, dear me ! without you, Leone?"

"You need not fret yourself already, Angela," replied Da Vinci, in a low but almost sorrowful tone of voice; "it is not very likely to happen yet awhile-every thing goes so slowly — but some day, and then Angela, when I come back I will not again leave you."

-

This promise quieted Angela's fears, and she cared not that Leonardo remained sunk in a studious absent fit.

The sun had now risen to a height which forcibly made the companions think of returning to the house. Angela began to anticipate Aunt Placida's scolding, and could only console herself with asking Leonardo to be sure and come to the garden bosquet in the evening.

"Your father comes to-day, does he not?" inquired Da Vinci.

"Yes, with some friends," answered Angela.

"Do come!"

Leonardo shook his head.

"I will come and see your father when he is in his studio, but not when he has company, unless he has asked me," said he. "You know what Signora Placida said not ten days ago, that the Maestro had been right angered at your going with me that evening to the river side, when he wished for you at home; and was he not somewhat displeased with you, though the fault was mine in taking you? No, I shall not come. Your father would look on

me as an intruder."

Angela, though not perceiving the truth of her companion's reason for refusing, knew well, by his decisive tone, that the matter was settled, and she therefore turned her buoyant hopes to the morrow's meeting. They walked quickly to avoid the sun, and when Angela had crept through the hedge of the garden, Leonardo did not follow her, but after a short parting turned in the direction of his own home, while Angela slowly proceeded to face her Aunt Placida's wrath.