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figure. Her abundant hair
gleamed golden, and her proud face was at once warmly and purely handsome.
All the men were her frank and devoted admirers. I have
heard that the very shopkeepers and artisans who saw her pass on the street
were wont to roll their eyes in awe at her loveliness, and even to fight
jealously over this noble creature they dared not address.
Of those present, she appeared to prefer the dark, dashing
Giuliano de Medici.
"I FEAR that it will be a hot summer," she
mourned as she finished her sherbet. "There will be little ice left in the
storehouses, even now."
"Nay, then," I made haste to say. "Ice may
be kept through the hottest months, if it is placed in houses banked with
earth." I quickly sketched such a half-buried shed. "And also let the
ice be covered deep with sawdust and chaff."
"How?" demanded the painter, Botticelli. "I
have known chaff to be placed over fruit in a shop, and so keep it from
freezing. If chaff keeps fruit warm, will it also make ice cold?"
I was on the point of launching into a discussion of
refrigeration and insulation, but prudently stopped short. "It does indeed
bring coldness," I assured him. "Or rather it keeps the coldness that
is there already."
"Black magic/' muttered Abbot Marriotto, crossing
himself with a beringed hand.
"Nay, white magic," decided Lorenzo, "for
it does good on earth, does it not, and no harm to any
creature? Ser Leo, do you guarantee that ice will thus remain through the
summer, and not perish?" He turned to a servant. "Go you," he
ordered, "and summon a secretary." And then to me: "He shall
make notes of what you say, young sir, and tomorrow shall see the building of
such a house. Therein my ice shall lie, with good store of chaff to insure its
cold."
"This strange young man is a learned doctor,"
said the silvery voice of a lady, who toyed with a goblet of jeweled gold.
"Does he not know of more exalted things than chaff
and houses buried in the earth?" asked Simonetta Vespucci, deigning to
smile upon me. "Ser Leo —for so you seem to be called—can you not tell us
a tale of these stars, which now wink out in the sky and float above our
earth?"
Her eyes and her smile dazzled me, understandably, along
with any man on whom they turned. Perhaps that is why I ventured to dazzle her
in turn.
"Madonna Simonetta," I said, " permit me to say that those stars are worlds, greater than
ours,"
"Greater than ours?" she cried, and laughed most
musically. "But they are no more than twinklets, full of spikes and beams,
like a little shining burr."
"They are far away, Madonna," I said. "A
man, if only at the distance of a hundred paces, appears so small that he can
be contained within the eye of a needle held close before you. So with these
bodies, which are like the sun— "
"The sun!" she interrupted. "The sun, Ser
Leo, is round, not full of points like a star."
There was applause of her lively protest, from all the men
and most of the women.
For answer, I took up a sheet of the paper on which I had
been sketching, and asked for the loan of a pin. One of the ladies had a silver
bodkin in her cap, and offered it. With this I pierced a hole in the paper.
"Madonna," I addressed Simonetta, " hold this hole to your eye, and look through it. The
smallness of the opening will shut away the glitter . . . So, you do it
correctly. Now"—I pointed to where, in the evening sky, hung shimmering
Jupiter—"look yonder. Is that star, seen through the hole in your paper, a
burr or a small round body?"
"This is marvelous," she exclaimed. "It is
indeed round, like a gold coin seen from a distance."
THE others cried out in equal astonishment, and each must needs look through the hole in the paper at Jupiter. I
turned over in my mind the possibilities of explaining a telescdpe, but decided
not to offer another foggy theory that I could not suppolrt with exact plans or
models. I contented myself with attempting to lecture on astronomy.
"Gentlemen and fair
gleamed golden, and her proud face was at once warmly and purely handsome.
All the men were her frank and devoted admirers. I have
heard that the very shopkeepers and artisans who saw her pass on the street
were wont to roll their eyes in awe at her loveliness, and even to fight
jealously over this noble creature they dared not address.
Of those present, she appeared to prefer the dark, dashing
Giuliano de Medici.
"I FEAR that it will be a hot summer," she
mourned as she finished her sherbet. "There will be little ice left in the
storehouses, even now."
"Nay, then," I made haste to say. "Ice may
be kept through the hottest months, if it is placed in houses banked with
earth." I quickly sketched such a half-buried shed. "And also let the
ice be covered deep with sawdust and chaff."
"How?" demanded the painter, Botticelli. "I
have known chaff to be placed over fruit in a shop, and so keep it from
freezing. If chaff keeps fruit warm, will it also make ice cold?"
I was on the point of launching into a discussion of
refrigeration and insulation, but prudently stopped short. "It does indeed
bring coldness," I assured him. "Or rather it keeps the coldness that
is there already."
"Black magic/' muttered Abbot Marriotto, crossing
himself with a beringed hand.
"Nay, white magic," decided Lorenzo, "for
it does good on earth, does it not, and no harm to any
creature? Ser Leo, do you guarantee that ice will thus remain through the
summer, and not perish?" He turned to a servant. "Go you," he
ordered, "and summon a secretary." And then to me: "He shall
make notes of what you say, young sir, and tomorrow shall see the building of
such a house. Therein my ice shall lie, with good store of chaff to insure its
cold."
"This strange young man is a learned doctor,"
said the silvery voice of a lady, who toyed with a goblet of jeweled gold.
"Does he not know of more exalted things than chaff
and houses buried in the earth?" asked Simonetta Vespucci, deigning to
smile upon me. "Ser Leo —for so you seem to be called—can you not tell us
a tale of these stars, which now wink out in the sky and float above our
earth?"
Her eyes and her smile dazzled me, understandably, along
with any man on whom they turned. Perhaps that is why I ventured to dazzle her
in turn.
"Madonna Simonetta," I said, " permit me to say that those stars are worlds, greater than
ours,"
"Greater than ours?" she cried, and laughed most
musically. "But they are no more than twinklets, full of spikes and beams,
like a little shining burr."
"They are far away, Madonna," I said. "A
man, if only at the distance of a hundred paces, appears so small that he can
be contained within the eye of a needle held close before you. So with these
bodies, which are like the sun— "
"The sun!" she interrupted. "The sun, Ser
Leo, is round, not full of points like a star."
There was applause of her lively protest, from all the men
and most of the women.
For answer, I took up a sheet of the paper on which I had
been sketching, and asked for the loan of a pin. One of the ladies had a silver
bodkin in her cap, and offered it. With this I pierced a hole in the paper.
"Madonna," I addressed Simonetta, " hold this hole to your eye, and look through it. The
smallness of the opening will shut away the glitter . . . So, you do it
correctly. Now"—I pointed to where, in the evening sky, hung shimmering
Jupiter—"look yonder. Is that star, seen through the hole in your paper, a
burr or a small round body?"
"This is marvelous," she exclaimed. "It is
indeed round, like a gold coin seen from a distance."
THE others cried out in equal astonishment, and each must needs look through the hole in the paper at Jupiter. I
turned over in my mind the possibilities of explaining a telescdpe, but decided
not to offer another foggy theory that I could not suppolrt with exact plans or
models. I contented myself with attempting to lecture on astronomy.
"Gentlemen and fair
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