The Argosy — page 41: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Princess Eleanor. 31 cousin Dorothy came too, drawing after her him she kindly intended “ polishing.” But when we were home again I could not help comparing the day at its close with the one I spent with Herr Impach in the Alps. Of course you think that the first did not gain by the comparison. The young man seems to have felt slighted—I did not speak two words to him all day—for he has asked Ernest if it would please him to have a copy of Titian’s Biondo. This is more than I had intended. I did not mean to give up our walks through the picture galleries, and shall with difficulty spare him. Still, as the chance is offered me, I will try and return to my old ways again. When I shall have told you in a few words how we passed this even- ing, then you will be quite au fait. We had returned from a small theatre, and Ernest asked the gentle- men who accompanied us to come in and take tea with us. The night had been so beautiful and clear that we had walked home ; a thing our climate would not admit of in the month of February. But it was cold enough even here to admit of our greatly enjoying the sight of a large fire by which cousin Dorothy sat, making tea and awaiting our return. When Herr Impach entered the room we were all comfortably settled ; Arsent with cousin Dorothy on the sofa, Werdan and the young Floren- tine to my right and left. Herr Impach went and sat down by Emest near the fire, and quite overlooked the bewitching smile with which cousin Dorothy meant to lure him to her side. Our conversation soon turned on art treasures, in which Florence is so exceedingly rich. Only a few days ago I should have spoken en- thusiastically on that subject: now, to my shame be it confessed, I sought out the only thing that had displeased me. “In one point I have been sorely disappointed,” I exclaimed ; “and half my pleasure has been spoilt. It is in Raphael’s Fornarina !” My words were intended to provoke the young artist; if I am not to desert his banner, he must convince me that his cause is perfect and blameless. Fearing that he should misunderstand me, I accompanied my remark by a look in his direction. The Florentine, San Giuliano, took up the gauntlet, however. He said that I must have forgotten what the word Fornarina means. “Tis not a princess ”"—here he bowed low—“ ’tis not a princess we look for in Raphael’s love : and for a simple baker girl she is well enough. The figure is a little clumsy, the hand large; but we discover nothing vulgar in the face.” After a moment’s reflection, I said: “Not what is comparatively beautiful—no, the best and highest must gain the artist’s heart. Why should Raphael have Jainied his Madonna, and /oved the Fornarina? I can never forgive him for, |that, comicbooks.com