'Benedetto? Be sure he was. He followed me like a lover. He
painted pictures on the chapel ceiling - slung from a chair.
Torrigiano made us promise not to fight till the work should be
finished. We were both master craftsmen, do ye see, and he
needed us. None the less, I never went aloft to carve 'thout testing
all my ropes and knots each morning. We were never far from
each other. Benedetto 'ud sharpen his knife on his sole while he
waited for his plaster to dry - wheet, wheet, wheet. I'd hear it where
I hung chipping round a pillar-head, and we'd nod to each other
friendly-like. Oh, he was a craftsman, was Benedetto, but his
hate spoiled his eye and his hand. I mind the night I had finished
the models for the bronze saints round the tomb; Torrigiano
embraced me before all the chapel, and bade me to supper. I met
Benedetto when I came out. He was slavering in the porch Like a
mad dog.'

'Workin' himself up to it?' said Mr Springett. 'Did he have it in
at ye that night?'

'No, no. That time he kept his oath to Torrigiano. But I pitied
him. Eh, well! Now I come to my own follies. I had never
thought too little of myself; but after Torrisany had put his arm
round my neck, I - I' - Hal broke into a laugh - 'I lay there was not
much odds 'twixt me and a cock-sparrow in his pride.'

'I was pretty middlin' young once on a time,' said Mr Springett.

'Then ye know that a man can't drink and dice and dress fine,
and keep company above his station, but his work suffers for it,