The boy might easily have been mistaken for a dryad, as he sprang from rock to rock, whistling shrilly6 here, [Pg 2]coaxing7, calling there, and waving his crook8 to direct the truants9 back to the flock. It would have seemed no great wonder if he had really stepped out from a mountain boulder10 to command these gentle troops, for like all woodland sprites, he was brown. His eyes were brown, his hair was brown, and the tunic11 reaching barely to his knee was made of cool brown linen12. His sleeves were rolled to the shoulder, and his arms and legs, bared ever to the sun, were as brown as bronze itself. A crimson13 cover-kerchief wound carelessly about his head was the only bit of vivid color on the mountain side.
The sun shone hot, and when Giotto was satisfied that his sheep were all about him, cropping the mosses14, he threw himself down in the shade of an ilex-tree, and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his tunic.
Below, he could see his home nestling in a forest of sturdy pines, and far down the valley shone the roofs and spires[Pg 3] of the village. Southward appeared a glimpse of the public road that threaded its way through the hills to the mighty15 city of Florence. Giotto had never visited the place, but his father, who every spring carried wool thither16 to market, had often told him of the splendid bridges, towers, and palaces to be seen there. Great men lived there too, Giotto's father had said, and one of them, a certain Cimabue,[2] painted such pictures as the world had never seen before. Of this painter and his colors the boy was never tired of hearing; and as he lay on the grass under the ilex-tree, he was longing17 unspeakably for the time to come when he himself might go to Florence and behold18 the pictures wrought19 by Cimabue's hand.
Musing20, his eye fell upon a smooth flat stone near by, and with the sight came a desire that caused him to leap from his lounging position, his face alight with purpose.
[Pg 4]
"Hold still for a little while, Beni!" he said, addressing one of the sheep that nibbled21 beside the stone; "just be quiet, and I'll play I'm Cimabue, and draw your picture."
Giotto reached for a sharp bit of slate22 that had chipped from the rock above, and carefully studying the woolly face before him, began to draw upon the flat white stone. Patiently, thoughtfully he worked, glancing now up at his placid23 companion, now down at his flinty canvas, and coaxing Beni back into position with tempting24 handfuls of grass whenever the animal turned to trot25 away.
The sun rose high, and the boy, bending low over his task, forgot that he was warm, forgot that he was tired, even forgot that he was hungry, until he was roused by a hand upon his shoulder.
He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder
"He was roused by a hand upon his shoulder."
He sprang up, startled beyond speech by the touch, for he had believed himself alone with the silence and the sheep.
Before him stood a man in the robes of a scholar. His manner was stately,[Pg 5] his face pale and serious. He was gazing intently downward, not upon the little Tuscan shepherd, but at Beni's picture upon the stone.
"Boy, where did you learn to draw?" he exclaimed in a voice of strong excitement.
"Learn to draw?" queried26 Giotto wonderingly. "Nowhere, sir. I haven't learned."
"Do you mean me to believe that you have had no teacher, no one to tell you how to use your pencil?" The speaker searched the boy's face earnestly, almost fiercely, in his desire to know whether the child spoke27 the truth.
Giotto, innocent of all but the facts of his simple experience, replied sadly, "My father is too poor to pay for lessons."
"Then God Himself has taught you!" declared the stranger, hoarse28 with agitation29. "What is your name?"
"Giotto, sir."
"I am Cimabue, Giotto."
"Not—not Cimabue, the painter of[Pg 6] Florence!" ejaculated the lad, falling back a step, unable to believe that he who stood before him was in reality the hero of his boyish dreams.
"Yes," affirmed the man gravely, "and if you will go with me to Florence, child, I will make of you so great a painter that even the name of Cimabue will dwindle30 before the name of Giotto."
Down upon one bare knee fell the boy, and grasping the master's hand in both of his, he cried,—
"Oh, teach me to paint pictures, great and beautiful pictures, and I will go with you anywhere—" He broke off suddenly and rose,—"if father will give me leave," he concluded quietly.
"Oho!" and the artist smiled curiously31. "If your father forbade, you would not go with me, even though you might become a great painter?"
"No," said Giotto slowly, casting down his eyes, "even though I might become a great painter."
"Most good, most good," burst out[Pg 7] the master exultantly32; "a true heart should ever direct a painter's hand, and yours is true indeed, Giotto. Come, let us go to him."
Down the steep they hastened, the boy running on before to point the way, the master following with the look of one who has found a diamond in the dust at his feet; and when they came before Giotto's father with their strange request, and the Tuscan peasant learned what fortune had befallen his child, with the promised teaching and protection of Cimabue the renowned33, he bared his head, waved his hand toward Florence, and said to the painter solemnly,—
"Take him, master, and teach him the cunning of your brush, the magic of your colors; tell him the secret of your art and the mystery of your fame, but let him not forget his home, nor his mountains, nor his God."
And what became of the little Tuscan shepherd?
[Pg 8]
He dwelt with Cimabue in the wonderful city of Florence, studying early, studying late; and by the time he had grown to manhood, he was known to be the greatest painter in all the world. Even his master turned to him for instruction, and picture-lovers journeyed from distant countries to see him and behold his works. He was encouraged by the church, honored by the court, loved by the poor; and in all Christendom no name was more truly revered34 than that of the painter, Giotto.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Giotto (pronounced Jótto).
[2] Cimabue (pronounced Chím-a-boó-y).
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1
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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2
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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3
imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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4
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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5
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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6
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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7
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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9
truants
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| n.旷课的小学生( truant的名词复数 )；逃学生；逃避责任者；懒散的人 | |
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10
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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11
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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12
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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13
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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14
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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15
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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16
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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17
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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18
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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21
nibbled
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的过去式和过去分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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23
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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25
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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27
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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30
dwindle
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| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
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31
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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32
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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33
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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34
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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