bino was growing into fame for its pottery work, and when
its duke wished to send a bridal gift or a present on other festal
occasions, he often chose some of his own Urbino ware. Jars and bowls
and platters and vases were all made and painted at Urbino, whilst
Raphael Sanzio was running about on rosy, infantine feet.

There was a master potter in that day, one Benedetto, who did things
rare and fine in the Urbino ware. He lived within a stone’s throw of
Giovanni Sanzio, and had a beautiful daughter, by name Pacifica. The
house of Benedetto was a long, stone building with a porch at the back
all overclimbed by hardy rose trees, and looking on a garden in which
grew abundantly pear trees, plum trees, and strawberries. The little son
of neighbor Sanzio ran in and out of this bigger house and wider garden
of Benedetto at his pleasure, for the maiden Pacifica was always glad to
see him, and even the master potter would show the child how to lay the
color on the tremulous unbaked clay. Raphael loved Pacifica, as he loved
everything that was beautiful, and every one that was kind.

Master Benedetto had four apprentices or pupils at that time, but the
one that Raphael and Pacifica liked best was one Luca, a youth with a
noble, dark beauty of his own. For love of Pacifica he had come down
from his mountain home, and had bound himself to her father’s service.
Now he spent his days trying in vain to make designs fair enough to find
favor in the eyes of his master.

One day, as Raphael was standing by his favorite window in the potter’s
house, his friend, the handsome Luca, who was also standing there,
sighed so deeply that the child was startled from his dreams. “Good
Luca, what ails you?” he queried, winding his arms about the young man’s
knees.

“Oh, ‘Faello!” sighed the apprentice, wofully, “here is a chance to win
the hand of Pacifica if only I had talent. If the good Lord had only
gifted me with a master’s skill, instead of all the strength of this
great body of mine, I might win Pacifica.”

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