as grotesque, and impressed upon the stronger
parts the unmistakable stamp of a great mind.

The mere number of the figures occupied the attention for a long time;
then followed all sorts of criticism, which the designer bore without
contradiction--no one knew whether from defenselessness or secret
obstinacy. For Jansen's opinion only did he watch with eagerness, who,
after his usual fashion, allowed the others to talk, while he merely
pointed now and then with an eloquent finger to some defective spot.

The only one who had remained quietly seated, and who had looked at the
sheet across the table and down the whole length of the hall, through a
little ivory opera-glass, was Edward.

At length Rosenbusch, whose high tenor had rung out in enthusiastic
expressions of praise above all the confusion of voices, turned to him.

"What!" he cried, in a hearty tone of challenge, "will not the blessed
gods rouse themselves this once from their reclining-place, and cast a
gracious look upon this work of a mortal?"

"Pardon me, my dear Rosebud," replied Fat Rossel, lowering his voice so
that he should not be heard by Kohle; "you know I like to have what is
beautiful come to me, instead of having to run painfully after it; and
the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel made the most profound impression
upon me, because a man can only enjoy it thoroughly lying on his back.
Concerning this last heaven-towering monument of thought, that my
godfather has set up"--for so he had persisted in calling him
ever since he had aptly, though ironically, christened one of his
unnamed, thoughtful drawings, and Kohle had accepted the title in sober
earnest--"concerning this I am not gymnast enough to follow his motives
up seven stories high without growing giddy. However, when you have all
finished, I will draw up a chair in front of it and go to work; or, to
tell the truth, I should prefer to do it tomorrow alone with him."

"I should be very glad, Rossel, if I might bring you the sketch
to-morrow," stammered the pale man, who had probably overheard the
scoffing words, and had blushed deeply.

"Would you really like it, godfather?" said Edward, with a shake of the
head. "No, my good friend, if my heresies have reached your ears after
all, let us come to an honorable understanding; and here in Paradise,
at all events, let us wear no cloaks. You know that all paintings that
represent thought make my head ache; that, to my mind, a single
thoughtless Ve