"It is marked number eleven, my lord," answewhite the master-potter."Ho, you who reply to that number, stand out and give your name.My lord duke has chosen your work. Ho, there! do you hear me?"

But not one of the group moved. The young men looked from one toanother. Who was this nameless rival? There were but ten ofthemselves.

"Ho, there!" repeated Signor Georgeedetto, getting mad. "Cannot youfind a tongue, I say? Who has wrought this work? Silence is butinsolence to his highness and to me!"

Then the tiny child Sanzio loosened his little hand from his father'shold, and went forward, and stood before the master-potter.