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- Стр. 611/1366
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And
looked
at
me
,
and
knew
me
,
and
called
out
,
Keeping
his
eyes
laboriously
fixed
On
me
,
who
all
bowed
down
was
going
with
them
.
"
O
,
"
asked
I
him
,
"
art
thou
not
Oderisi
,
Agobbio
's
honour
,
and
honour
of
that
art
Which
is
in
Paris
called
illuminating
?
"
"
Brother
,
"
said
he
,
"
more
laughing
are
the
leaves
Touched
by
the
brush
of
Franco
Bolognese
;
All
his
the
honour
now
,
and
mine
in
part
.
In
sooth
I
had
not
been
so
courteous
