rbara, 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