The Argosy — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

Princess Eleanor. 37 piano. Prince Ernest frowned. I suppose he did not like his protégé to make himself ridiculous, but he could no longer prevent it. Arsent sat down stiffly, and began playing one of those tiresome tunes which one hears little children practising for hours together, and thereby driving their relatives and neighbours to despair. A fiend’s delight shone from Werdan’s eyes as he listened; Prince Ernest’s frown grew darker every moment; cousin Dorothy drew out her handkerchief to hide her laughter; and even Eleanor scarcely suppressed a smile. I listened with surprise to the primitive sounds with which this Prince thought of wooing his heart’s love. As I listened, the tones went from octave to octave, the air was no longer distinguishable: as a stream, whose distant murmurings we at first hear indistinctly, but whose rushing noise, as we draw near, almost deafens us—so melody followed melody ; the young man’s bearing grew into inspiration, and ere ten minutes had elapsed we were all listening to the performance of the most perfect artist- Geoffrey! how shall I describe the change in the expression of the listeners? Werdan’s mouth opened in astonishment, his face grew longer every minute; the frown on the Prince’s face died away, and his eyes lighted up with pleasure; the affected old cousin rocked her head to and fro like the pendulum of a clock ; Eleanor—what do you think Eleanor did? With the soft approach of spring coming to awake its flowers into new life, she glided to the piano, and sat down on a low stool beside it. She then closed her eyes, and with folded hands listened in silent ecstacy to the beautiful sounds, When Arsent began, even I could scarce refrain &om laughing ; now we found no words to thank him. Prince Ernest pressed his hands as if in congratulation. Eleanor thanked him joyfully, wishing 4m a good night, herself another even- ing like the one he had just procured her. This morning the inspection of my copy from Titian took place. Our merry company hurried up the broad staircase of the Uffizii, then along the passage on the walls of which is one of the most interesting collection of Italian men of renown. We threw scarcely a glance into the Tribuna, but went over to the secret passage leading across the Amo to the Pitti Palace. As we entered the apartments Eleanor threw a friendly glance upon the Caritas group, then we stopped a moment before Fra Barto- jomeo’s Laying Christ in the Grave, and lastly paused with Prince Ernest before Allori’s Judith, We had now reached the window where my Biondo was standing near the original, awaiting the finish- ing touches. You remember, Geoffrey, how minutely we studied every detail in the master’s manner, and will not be surprised if I tell you that none of them had ever seen or expected so good a copy. Prince Ernest gratified me much by saying, “Traly an exquisite‘ talent!” comicbooks.com