immortal person

When summer came, Lorenzo was much freer than before.Giovanni began to meet him frequently in the palace, and greeted him with a smile.The duke treated him more dearly than ever, and he kept his promise to regard Giovanni as a young friend.He started calling him "Joe".

They often meet in the sculpture gallery.Copying the statues collected in the palace was Giovanni's daily homework, while Lorenzo used it as a temporary reading room.He would come here with a book or two, and it was said that the statues that surrounded it often gave him the illusion that he was in an ancient air.

The exhibits in the gallery change seasonally, and now occupying the obsidian booth at the end is a statue of Apollo playing a harp.When Giovanni came here to copy as usual in the afternoon, Lorenzo was already standing in front of the statue.Hearing his footsteps, Lorenzo turned and smiled at him.

Giovanni's model these days is a statue of Hercules unearthed in the Peloponnese Peninsula 200 years ago. Bertoldo speculates that it may be the work of Praxiteles. When it was born, the The word of strength is still Hercules.Over the past five days, Giovanni has repeatedly pondered its physical signs and demeanor, and completed more than ten pages of drawings.He sat down in front of it again, and Lorenzo sat casually on the stone platform beside him and took his painting.

After a few moments he returned the manuscript to Giovanni without speaking.

"Isn't it good?" - this inevitably made Giovanni feel uneasy.

"I'm afraid too much praise will make you proud." Lorenzo smiled.

So the boy couldn't help curling the corner of his mouth.His tense posture relaxed a little, no longer as tense as when he first met Lorenzo.He set up the drawing board beside the Duke, and the silver-point pen moved smoothly across the paper.Lorenzo did not bother him anymore, he was always a quiet companion.Sometimes he could sit quietly with a book beside Giovanni for half a day.The almost pious focus of the young man at work can infect those around him—"Beside you, it seems that the air will be quieter." Lorenzo said.

At that time Giovanni thought to himself: It is the same with you.Now he feels the opposite.

For a moment in the corridor, there was only the rustling sound of the nib sliding.Lorenzo sat beside him with a volume of Landino's latest work on his lap.He was so absorbed in the volume that he ignored Giovanni's wandering gaze.His hands were still moving on the paper, but his eyes had already settled on Lorenzo's hands.These hands were hanging on the parchment, with well-defined joints, white and slender, he held them, and still remembered the soft touch of Lorenzo's palm.

Now he was pretty sure that what Luigi said was nonsense.When holding such a pair of hands, how can you still have the mood to think about other things?

He restrained himself from what Luigi said next.He gently withdrew his gaze back to the paper, just as quietly as when it was cast on that person.

In his free time, Giovanni would go to the sculpture gallery to organize the collection for Lorenzo.The four generations of the Medici family have the habit of buying a large number of works of art. Bronze statues and stone statues were accidentally or intentionally excavated from the remote island of Crete, and then transported all the way to Florence, covered with mud and moss. .Due to the age of many of these sculptures, it is impossible to judge their origins. We can only infer the age of their authors through the subtle similarities or differences in materials, techniques and forms of expression.Bertoldo, who also weighed in on the work, often likened Lorenzo to the savior of these ancient arts, bringing them out of darkness and from being cast or smashed: "If their bodies There is a soul in it, and it must be singing its praises."

Perhaps in recognition of his diligence, Lorenzo reserved a seat for him at the table and invited him to travel with him in the near future.This is the first time Giovanni has participated in a safari. In the early morning, the grass leaves on the field are still dripping with dew. At dawn, the dog handler led more than ten Genoese hounds to open the way ahead, and the falconer led Lorenzo to feed them. Several Cyprus eagles drove the wild birds around.The companions soon discovered that this taciturn young apprentice had a pair of sharp and extraordinary eyes, and his archery accuracy far surpassed that of ordinary beginners.At noon they had a picnic by the stream in the forest, and Giovanni sat in the distance, drawing Lorenzo's figure when he held the bow not long ago from his memory to the paper.Until Lorenzo played the piano in the crowd, the music was carried far in the wind. It was a cheerful dance music, and people clapped their hands in response, with bright smiles on their faces.

Lorenzo was smiling too.Giovanni gazed at him through the quivering branches.Now he could already distinguish the Duke's smile, and knew that Lorenzo was very happy now.Naturally, he was also happy for Lorenzo's pleasure.Like when the sun falls, the flowers cannot help opening; if Lorenzo is the sun, he will be the plant facing the sun.

He no longer fears.That's good, he thought, close to a miracle, or a dream.

It was late at night when Poliziano opened the door of the Duke's study.Apart from the night watchman, they may be the only awake people in the mansion in the room.Lorenzo was dusting the letter paper with silvery sand to dry the ink as quickly as possible.Poliziano saw the silver tray full of spirits in the Duke's hand, he hesitated for a moment, and finally did not speak to dissuade.

"Letter from Rome," he said.

Lorenzo took the envelope from him.

He read the letter without a word, and resumed what he had just interrupted.He folded the letter paper and put it in an envelope, the ring was sealed with the family coat of arms: "To our friends in Milan—if we still have any."

Poliziano looked at him.Lorenzo knew what he was waiting for, and said, "Don't worry. The letter just said she needs some time."

"There are rumors going on in Rome," Poliziano said, "about you."

"I can probably guess." Lorenzo nodded, "I'd be surprised if there were no rumors about me for too long. In the past few years, I've heard people say that I either don't lift or I don't. □.”

Poliziano was amazed that he said the title so calmly.He tried to read some other trace of emotion in Lorenzo's face, and Lorenzo just smiled at him.This made him even more intolerable.

"I think the lady just overheard these rumors," Poliziano said. "A girl of her age is easily influenced by a talkative maid."

And Lorenzo just shook his head with a smile.

"That's all right, I'll write to Monsieur Orsini later," said Lorenzo.He picked up the incense box at hand, and the awe-inspiring aroma of mint and sage rushed to his face, somewhat relieving his fatigue.The shadow of the candlelight swayed gently on his face.

He closes his eyes.After a long time, Poliziano heard the Duke whisper: "They want to delay as long as possible, and I understand very well - that is my wish."