We need you with us,--it may be
that we shall need you more than we have ever done! Pray for us,
brother!--Pray for my Angela, that she may be spared--"
His harsh voice broke,--and tears trickled down his furrowed cheeks.
"See you!" he said, pointing in a kind of despair to the magnificent
"Coming of Christ"--"If Raffaelle or Angelo had dared to paint this
in their day, the world would be taking a lesson from it now! If it
were a modern man's work, that man would be a centre for hero-
worship! But that a WOMAN should create such a masterpiece!--and
that woman my Angela! Do you know what it means, Felix?--what Fame
always means, what it always must mean--for a woman? Just what has
already happened,--the murderous dagger-thrust--the coward stab in
the back--and the little child's cry of the tender broken heart we
heard just now--'Stay with me!--I am so tired!'"
The Cardinal pressed his hand sympathetically, too profoundly moved
himself to speak.
"This picture will bring down the thunders of the Vatican!--" went
on Sovrani--"And those thunders will awaken a responsive echo from
the world! But not from the Old World--the New! The New World!--yes-
-my Angela's work is for the living present, the coming future--not
for the decayed Past!"
As he spoke, he dropped the silken curtain before the picture and
hid it from view.
Pages:
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701