effect far greater than drawing in charcoal!
It happened that the "Festival of Flowers" fell on the following day, so Caterina and her brothers Tiziano and Francesco went out to the edges of the village to gather flowers from the neighboring hills, and at evening they returned home carrying their colored armfuls in readiness for the festival.
While the children were in the flush of their joy, one of the girls said: "Have you heard that Salvador, the miller's son, is traveling to Venice to learn the craft of engraving? For his father has grown rich and does not want his own trade for him — the craft of engraving being, in his opinion, far more important than the trade of milling." Sishnir, whose uncle was a lawyer well acquainted with the life of cities, answered: "It never entered my head that Salvador loved engraving; and wealth alone is not enough to make a painter of a man."
A second girl replied: "Where there is neither money nor teachers, how can a person become a painter?"
And Caterina added: "That is what I answer Tiziano whenever he voices his hope of traveling to the city of Venice to study painting. I tell him that his father is not rich, and that he would do better to learn the cobbler's trade."
The children laughed, and one of them said: "If no teacher can be found for Tiziano, his gifts will go with the wind..."
Tiziano's face turned red, and he said to himself: "Yes, I have no teacher, but I can prove my ability if I am given the chance. If only I could get painting colors, I would make them stop calling
me a dreamer, for I am utterly certain that I can paint a fine picture — and who knows, my father might be convinced and send me to study?!"
Paint was dear in those days, and his father's circumstances did not permit him to spend his money on buying colors for his son before the boy had mastered their use.
Then something happened that no one had reckoned on... On the morning of the next day — the day of the Festival of Flowers — the boy noticed colored stains on the stones near his house. They were the traces of the flowers trodden underfoot the day before! At once the idea entered his head of making colors from the juice of flowers. And while the villagers were merrymaking and
dancing, he slipped away alone to the meadows to gather flowers anew. His sister saw him leaving the ring of dancers and followed him in secret to a hillock full of flowers, and asked him: "What are you doing here, Tiziano?"
He answered: "I want to paint!"
— "And how do you suppose you will paint without colors?"
— "I shall use the juice of flowers for that purpose. Here are the colors I have found — yesterday I saw their traces coloring the stone walk in front of our house."
I have said that Caterina was no dreamer. Yet she granted that he could color with flowers, for she too had seen their traces on the ground. And she said to herself: "It is a sound idea. I have heard the village priest say: 'Where there is a will,
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