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Page 21
"It is not difficult to understand what Howard is thinking of,"
whispered Malcom in Bettina's ear. "Did you see what a look he gave
Barbara? I don't believe she likes it."
Mr. Sumner, turning, surprised the same look in the young man's eyes and
gave a quick, inquiring glance at the fair, flushed face of Barbara. He
felt annoyed, without knowing exactly why. A new and foreign element had
been introduced into the little group, whose influence was not to be
transient.
After a few more words, in which he told them to notice the type of
Giotto's faces--the eyes set near together, their too great length,
though much better in this respect than Cimabue's, and the broad,
rounded chins--they turned away.
"We have seen all we ought to stay here for to-day, and now we will
drive over to Santa Croce. There are also notable frescoes by Giotto in
Assisi, and especially in the Arena Chapel, Padua. Perhaps we may see
them all by and by."
On leaving the church, Bettina looked back, saying:--
"This is the church that Michael Angelo used to call 'his bride.'"
"Used to," laughed Malcom. "You have gone back centuries this morning,
Betty."
"I feel so. I should not be one bit surprised to meet some of these old
artists right here in the Piazza on their way to their work."
"Let us go over to Santa Croce by way of the Duomo, and through Piazza
Signoria, Uncle," said Margery. "I am never tired of those little,
narrow, crooked streets."
"Yes, that will be a good way; for then we shall go right past Giotto's
Campanile, and though you have seen it often you will look upon it with
especial interest just now, when we are studying his work."
At Santa Croce they were to meet Mrs. Douglas by appointment; and as
they pressed on through the broad nave, lined on either side by massive
monuments to Florence's great dead, they espied her at the entrance of
the Bardi Chapel in conversation with a lady whose slender figure and
bright, animated face grew familiar to the young people of the steamship
as they approached; for it was the Miss Sherman whom Barbara and Bettina
had admired so much on the _Kaiser Wilhelm_, and whom, with her father
and sister, they had met once before in this same church.
Coming rapidly forward, Mrs. Douglas introduced her companion.
"She is alone in Florence," she explained to her brother a moment later
when the others had passed on, "for her father has been suddenly
summoned home, and her sister has accompanied him. She is a bright,
charming young woman, who loves art dearly, and I am sure we all shall
like her. I felt drawn to her as we talked together several times on our
way over. I think we must have her with us all we can."
After an hour spent in the Bardi and Peruzzi Chapels, whose walls are
covered with Giotto's frescoes, the little group separated. Malcom,
Margery, Barbara, and Bettina walked home along the Via dei Pinti, or
Street of the Painters. While the others chatted, Barbara was unusually
silent. She was thinking how much she had learned that morning, and
exulted in the knowledge that there was not quite so vast a difference
between herself and Miss Sherman as existed the last time they met in
Santa Croce.
For Barbara had entered into the study of this subject with an almost
feverish fervor of endeavor. Though she felt there was much to enjoy and
to learn all about her, yet nothing seemed so important as a knowledge
of the old painters and their pictures; and the longing to be able to
think and to speak with some assurance of them haunted her continually.
Bettina sometimes looked at her sister with wonder as she would sit hour
after hour poring over Mr. Sumner's books.
"I always thought _I_ loved pictures best," she thought; "but Bab cares
more for these old ones than I do."
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