"
Then I, almost angry, answered her:
Why, madam, does it appear to your Excellency that I can attend to nothing
but painting? Truly I shall always be pleased to hear M. Angelo, but when
the Epistles of St. Paul are read, I prefer to hear Brother Ambrosio."
"Do not be angry, M. Francisco," M. Lactancio then said, "for the
Marchioness does not think that the man who is a painter will not be
everything. We esteem painting higher in Italy. But perchance she said
that to you in order to give you, beyond what you already have, the
further pleasure of hearing Michael."
I then replied:
"Her Excellency will be doing no more than she is in the habit of doing,
giving always greater favours than one dares to ask."
The Marchioness, knowing my mind, called one of her servants, and said,
smiling:
"To those who know how to express thanks one must study how to give,
especially as I get as much in the giving as Francisco d'Ollanda does in
receiving. Foao, go to the house of M. Angelo and tell him that I and M.
Lactancio are here in this quiet chapel, and that the church is closed and
very pleasant, if he cares to come and lose a little of the day with us,
so that we may gain it with him. And do not tell him that Francisco
d'Ollanda, the Spaniard, is here."
As I was whispering something about the discretion of the Marchioness in
everything, in the ear of Lactancio, she desired to know what it was
about.
"He was telling me," said Lactancio, "how well your Excellency knows how
to preserve decorum in everything, even in a message.
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