"It would be terrible to meet in real life a woman who looked like
that," I wrote; "for a man would grow desperate at his inability to win
her and desperate because the years must destroy such a marvel. That is
why the gracious gods have willed it otherwise; that is why she does not
exist. That is why she is only a vision, a revelation, a painting, and
that is why she was conceived in the brain of Leonardo, the place on
earth most favoured by the gods, and executed by Luini, that all
generations might gaze at her without jealousy, and without dread of the
molestations of Time."
One day, at the Museo Kircheriano, where I was looking at the admirable
antiquities, I made acquaintance with a Jesuit priest, who turned out to
be exceedingly pleasant and refined, a very decent fellow, in fact. He
spoke Latin to me, and showed me round; at an enquiry of mine, he
fetched from his quarters in the Collegio Romano a book with
reproductions from the pagan section of the Lateran Museum, and
explained to me some bas-reliefs which I had not understood. His
obligingness touched me, his whole attitude made me think. Hitherto I
had only spoken to one solitary embryo Jesuit,--a young Englishman who
was going to Rome to place himself at the service of the Pope, and who
was actuated by the purest enthusiasm; I was struck by the fact that
this second Jesuit, too, seemed to be a worthy man.
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