The Secret Supper

None of the merchants, moneylenders or friars strolling by in the twilight around San Francesco il Grande noticed the slovenly, ill-dressed man who hurried into the Franciscan church. It was the eve of a holiday, a market day, and the inhabitants of Milan were busy gathering provisions for the coming days of official mourning. Under such circumstances, it was only natural that the presence of yet another beggar left them unconcerned. But the fools were once again mistaken. The beggar who entered San Francesco was not an ordinary man. Without giving himself a moment's respite, the ragged man left behind him the double line of benches that lined the nave and hurried on towards the main altar. There was not a soul to be seen inside the church. At last he had been permitted to see a painting, the Virgin of the Rocks, that few in Milan knew by its real name: the MaestĂ .