s, for the
first time, beginning to come to a clear understanding of myself, and I
prize you very highly just because you do not imitate my style--that
you don't, like so many others, take a pot of black paint, lay on
staring high lights, make a few crippled-looking figures, in horrible
costumes, peep out of the dirty-looking ground, and then think 'There's
a Salvator.' You have found in me the truest of friends, and I devote
myself to you with all my soul."

Antonio was beyond himself with joy at the good will which the master
thus charmingly displayed to him. Salvator expressed a strong desire to
see Antonio's pictures, and Antonio took him at once to his studio.

Salvator had formed no small expectations of this youth who spoke so
understandingly about art, and in whom there seemed to be a peculiar
genius at work; and yet the master was most agreeably astonished by
Antonio's wealth of pictures. He found everywhere boldness of idea,
correctness of drawing; and the fresh colouring, the great tastefulness
of the breadth of the flow of folds, the unusual delicacy of the
extremities, and the high beauty of the heads evidenced the worthy
pupil of the great Reni; although Antonio's striving was not, like that
of his master (who was overapt to do this), to sacrifice expression to
beauty, often too visibly. One saw that Antonio aimed at Annibale's
strength, without, as yet, being able to attain to it.

In his first silence Salvator had examined each of Antonio's pictures
for a long time. At length he said: "Listen, Antonio, there is not the
slightest doubt about it, you are born for the noble painter's art. For
not only has Nature given you the creative spirit, from which the most
glorious ideas flame forth in inexhaustible wealth, but she has further
endowed you with the rare talent, which, in a brief time, overcomes the
difficulties of technical practice. I should be a lying flatterer if I
said you had as yet equalled your teachers, that you had attained to
Guido's marvellous delightsomeness, or Annibale's power; but it is
certain that you far surpass our masters who give themselves such airs
here in the Academy of San Luca, your Tiarini, Gessi, Sementa, and
whatever they may call themselves, not excepting Lanfranco, who can
only draw in chalk; and yet, Antonio, were I in your place I should
consider long before I threw away the lancet altogether, and took up
the brush. This sounds strange; but hear me further. Just at pr