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Page 60
"What do you think of this, Malcom? Do you not wish to get acquainted
with Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and Virgil?" added Mr. Sumner, putting
his hand suddenly on the young man's shoulder, and looking into his face
to surprise his thought.
"I think it is fine, Uncle Rob. It's all right;" and Malcom's steady
blue eyes emphasized his satisfaction.
"What do you call Raphael's greatest picture?" asked Barbara, as they
turned from the frescoed walls.
"These are his most important frescoes," replied Mr. Sumner; "and all
critics agree that his most famous easel picture is the _Madonna di San
Sisto_ in the Dresden Gallery. This is so very familiar to you that it
needs no explanation. It was, you know, his last Madonna, and it
contains a hint of Divinity in both mother and child never attained by
any painter before or since."
"When shall we see Raphael's tapestries?" asked Margery, as they finally
passed on through halls and corridors.
"I hardly think I will go with you to see those, Madge dear," answered
her uncle. "There is no further need that I explain any of Raphael's
work to you. Your books and your own critical tastes, which are pretty
well formed by this time, will be quite sufficient. Indeed," looking
around until he caught Barbara's eyes, "I really think you can study all
the remaining paintings in Rome by yourselves," and he was made happy by
seeing the swift regret which clouded them.
"When we return to Florence," he added, "you will be more interested
than when we were there before in looking at Raphael's Madonnas and
portraits in those galleries; and on our way from Florence to Venice, we
will stop at Bologna to see his _St. Cecilia_".
"How perfectly delightful!" cried Bettina. "I have been wishing to see
that ever since we went to the church of St. Cecilia the other day. I
was greatly interested to know that it had once been her own home, and
in everything there connected with her. She was so brave, and true, and
good! It seems as if Raphael could have painted a worthy picture of
her!"
As Bettina suddenly checked her pretty enthusiasm, her face flushed
painfully, and Barbara, seeking the cause, caught the supercilious smile
with which Miss Sherman was regarding her sister. She at once divined
that poor Bettina feared that, in some way, she had made herself
ridiculous to the older lady.
Going swiftly to her sister she threw her arm closely about her waist,
and with a charming air of defiance,--with erect head and flashing eyes,
said:--
"Mr. Sumner, St. Cecilia is a real, historical character, is she not? As
much so as St. Francis, Nero, or Marcus Aurelius?" The slight emphasis
on the last name recalled to all the party the effusive eulogiums Miss
Sherman had lavished upon that famous imperial philosopher a few days
before, while they were looking at his bust in the museum of Palazzo
Laterano; when, unfortunately, she had imputed to him certain utterances
that rightfully belong to another literary man who lived in quite a
different age and country.
Mr. Sumner could not avoid a merry twinkle of his eyes as he strove to
answer with becoming gravity, and Malcom hastily pushed on far in
advance.
Once at home, Malcom and Margery gave their version of the affair to
their mother.
"It isn't the first time she has looked like that at both Barbara and
Betty," averred Malcom, emphatically, "and they have known and felt it,
too."
"I am very sorry," said Mrs. Douglas, with a troubled look.
"Oh! you need not fear anything further, mother _mia_" said Malcom,
sympathizingly. "Barbara will never show any more feeling. She would not
have done it for herself, only for Betty. Under the circumstances she
just had to fire her independence-gun, that is all. Now there will be
perfect peace on her side. You know her.
"And," he added in an aside to Margery, as his mother was leaving the
room, "Miss Sherman will not dare to be cross openly for fear of mother
and Uncle Rob. I didn't dare to look at her. But wasn't it rich?" And he
went off into a peal of laughter.
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