a thought struck him. "Signor Pietro," said he, "we
Dutchmen are hard bargainers. We are the lads 'een eij scheeren,' that
is, 'to shave an egg.' Therefore, I, for my lost dinner, do claim to
feast mine eyes on your picture, whose face is toward the wall."

"Nay, nay," said the painter hastily, "ask me not that; I have already
misconducted myself enough towards thee. I would not shed thy blood."

"Saints forbid! My blood?"

"Stranger," said Pietro sullenly, "irritated by repeated insults to my
picture, which is my child, my heart, I did in a moment of rage make a
solemn vow to drive my dagger into the next one that should flout it,
and the labour and love that I have given to it."

"What, are all to be slain that will not praise this picture?" and he
looked at its back with curiosity.

"Nay, nay; if you would but look at it, and hold your parrot tongues.
But you will be talking. So I have turned it to the wall for ever. Would
I were dead, and buried in it for my coffin!"

Gerard reflected.

"I accept the condition. Show me the picture! I can but hold my peace."

Pietro went and turned its face, and put it in the best light the room
afforded, and coiled himself again on his chest, with his eye, and
stiletto, glittering.

The picture represented the Virgin and Christ, flying through the air in
a sort of cloud of shadowy cherubic faces; underneath was a landscape,
forty or fifty miles in extent, and a purple sky above.

Gerard stood and looked at it in silence. Then he stepped close, and
looked. Then he retired as far off as he could, and looked; but said not
a word.

When he had been at this game half an hour, Pietro cried out querulously
and somewhat inconsistently: "well, have you not a word to say about
it?"

Gerard started. "I cry your mercy; I forgot there were three of us here.
Ay, I have much to say." And he drew his sword.

"Alas! alas!" cried Pietro, jumping in terror from his lair. "What
wouldst thou?"

"Marry, defend myself against thy bodkin, signor; and at due odds,
being, as aforesaid, a Dutchman. Therefore, hold aloof, while I deliver
judgment, or I will pin thee to the wall like a cockchafer."

"Oh! is that all?" said Pietro, greatly relieved. "I feared you were
going to stab my poor picture with your sword, stabbed already by so
many foul tongues."

Gerard "pursued criticism under difficulties." Put himself in a position
of defence, with his sword's point covering Pietro, and one eye