such as he or we might see any day.  It is a good homely face, neither worldly nor spiritual, and only redeemed from the commonplace by technical ability.  St. Daniel is more interesting; the young deacon is extremely well posed, the plain and massive features being drawn with a firm and confident touch; and the deacon’s vestments, which always take an easy and becoming fall, are decorated in a typical way with winged children arbitrarily introduced, and looking more like the detail of some bas-relief than a piece of embroidered ornament.  St. Justina wears the coronet as princess, and bears the palm-leaf as martyr.  She has no pronounced characteristic, the face being rather unemotional; but the gesture of her outstretched hand is not without an appealing dignity.  The hair, like that of the Madonna, is parted in the centre, and stands off from the forehead, and then falls in rich tresses about her shoulders.  It has not the soft and silken texture of the Madonna’s hair, which is rendered with as great a skill as one sees in the Virgin of the Annunciation.  In both these latter cases Donatello succeeds in giving to the hair an indescribable suggestion of something full of elasticity and lustre.  But St. Justina’s hair at least grows:  so many sculptors of ability failed to indicate that needful quality.  St. Procdocimus and St. Louis are of subordinate merit, and show the work of assistants in several particulars.  The former was first Bishop of Padua and converted the father of St. Justina to Christianity.  At first sight the statue is pleasing, but on closer examination the weaknesses, especially in the face, become marked.  There is indecision, not in the pose or general idea, but in the details which give character to the whole conception.  The features are chiselled by a small mesquin personality, and what might have been a fine statue if carried out by Donatello has been ruined by his assistants.  The ewer which the Bishop carries is a later addition, from the design of which one might almost argue that the statue itself is later than the others.[196] The St. Louis, wearing his episcopal robes above the Franciscan habit, his mitre decorated with a fleur-de-lys of royal France, is also hammered all over, giving the bronze the appearance of being dotted with little pin-holes.  The head is, however, marked by the grave austerity for which the St. Louis in Santa Croce is so remarkable, and which became the typical rendering of the saint in fifteenth-century plastic art.  However much Donatello may have allowed a free hand to his assistants in this statue, the fine qualities of the head are attributable to a strict adherence to his own sketch.  The last of the great bronze figures is the crucifix above the high altar.  It is magnificent, apart from the technical qualities which rival Donatello’s most brilliant achievements.  All the lines droop together in a wonderful cadenza; the face is transfigured by human pain, but all the superhuman