only one--that unfinished
_Adoration of the Magi_--is surely his. We shall see the _Last Supper_
and _Head of Christ_ at Milan. Then there are two or three in Paris and
one in London I think these are all," and she looked inquiringly at Mr.
Sumner, who smilingly nodded confirmation of her words.

"But," she went on, with an answering smile, "I do not think this was
due to lack of time, for on these few pictures he probably spent as much
time as ordinary artists do in painting a great many. He was never
satisfied with the result of his work. His aims were so high and he saw
and felt so much in his subjects that he would paint his pictures over
and over again, and then often destroy them because he could not produce
what he wished. I think he was one of the most untiring of artists."

"I have been especially interested," said Bettina, after a minute or
two, "in the story of the _Last Supper_ which we shall soon see."

She then went on to tell the sad tale of Beatrice d'Este,--the good and
beautiful wife of harsh, wicked Duke Ludovico. How she used to go daily
to the church Santa Maria delle Grazie to be alone,--to think and to
pray; and how, after her early death, the duke, probably influenced by
remorse because of his cruelty to her, desired Leonardo to decorate this
church and its adjoining monastery with pictures in memory of his dead
young wife. The only remaining one of these is the _Last Supper_ in the
refectory of the old monastery. And the famous _Head of Christ_ in the
Brera Gallery, Milan, is only one of perhaps hundreds of studies that he
made for the expression which he should give to his Christ in the _Last
Supper_,--so dissatisfied was he with his renderings of the face of our
Saviour. And even with his last effort he was not content, but said the
head must ever go unfinished.

"I am glad to hear you say that this _Head of Christ_ was produced
simply as a study of expression," remarked Mr. Sumner. "I am sure this
fact is not understood by many who look upon it. I know of no other
artistic representation in the world that is so utterly just an
expression and nothing more;--a fleeting expression of some inner
feeling of which the face is simply an index. And this feeling is the
blended grief and love and resignation that filled the heart of our
Saviour when He said to His disciples, 'One of you shall betray me.' It
is a simply wrought study, made on paper with charcoal and water-color.
The paper is worn, i