arcoal upon the paper, and within it sat the
Blessed Virgin with a lovely, happy face, upon which there was withal
a shade of melancholy. At her feet in a little nest of straw lay the
Infant Jesus--very lovely, with large serious eyes. Without, upon the
threshold of the open door were kneeling two shepherd lads with staff
and wallet. "You see," said the painter, "I am going to put your head
upon one of these shepherds, and so people will know your face and,
please God, take pleasure in it long after we are both under the sod,
and are ourselves kneeling happily before the Blessed Mother and her
Son like those shepherd lads." Then he seized an old chair, the back
of which came off in his hand as he lifted it. He soon fitted it into
its place again, however, pushed it in front of the frame, and I had
to sit down on it, and turn my face sideways to him. I sat thus
for some minutes perfectly still, without stirring. After a while,
however--I am sure I do not know why--I felt that I could endure it
no longer; every part of me began to twitch, and besides, there hung
directly in front of me a piece of broken looking-glass into which I
could not help glancing perpetually, making all sorts of grimaces from
sheer weariness. The painter, noticing this, burst into a laugh, and
waved his hand to signify that I might leave my chair. My face upon
the paper was already finished, and was so exactly like me that I was
immensely pleased with it.

The young man went on painting in the cool morning, singing as he
worked, and sometimes looking from the open window at the glorious
landscape. I, in the meantime, spread myself another piece of bread
and butter, and walked up and down the room, looking at the pictures
leaning against the wall. Two of them pleased me especially. "Did you
paint these, too?" I asked the painter. "Not exactly," he replied.
"They are by the famous masters Leonardo da Vinci and Guido Reni; but
you know nothing about them." I was nettled by the conclusion of his
remark. "Oh," I rejoined very composedly, "I know those two masters as
well as I know myself." He opened his eyes at this. "How so?" he
asked hastily. "Well," said I, "I traveled with them day and night, on
horseback, on foot, and driving at a pace that made the wind whistle
in my ears, and I lost them both at an inn, and then traveled post
alone in their coach, which went bumping on two wheels over the rocks,
and--" "Oho! oho!" the painter interrupted me, star