I had come in till I addressed him. Then
I told him whence I came and what had happened, and he thought it all
very strange and interesting.

"He was as usual rather hurried and hesitating, not quite clear,
but understanding it all. Then he began telling me something about a
philosopher who has just come to the front, a porter by trade, from whom
he had heard sundry wonders, and it was not till Syrus brought me in
a supper of oysters--for I could still eat nothing more solid--that he
asked to see the portrait.

"I pointed to the easel, and watched him; for the harder he is to
please, the more I value his opinion. This time I felt confident of
praise, or even of some admiration, if only for the beauty of the model.

"He threw off the veil from the picture with a hasty movement, but,
instead of gazing at it calmly, as he is wont, and snapping out his
sharp criticisms, he staggered backward, as though the noonday sun had
dazzled his sight. Then, bending forward, he stared at the painting,
panting as he might after racing for a wager. He stood in perfect
silence, for I know not how long, as though it were Medusa he was gazing
on, and when at last he clasped his hand to his brow, I called him by
name. He made no reply, but an impatient 'Leave me alone!' and then
he still gazed at the face as though to devour it with his eyes, and
without a sound.

"I did not disturb him; for, thought I, he too is bewitched by the
exquisite beauty of those virgin features. So we were both silent, till
he asked, in a choked voice: 'And did you paint that? Is that, do you
say, the daughter that Seleukus has just lost?'

"Of course I said 'Yes'; but then he turned on me in a rage, and
reproached me bitterly for deceiving and cheating him, and jesting with
things that to him were sacred, though I might think them a subject for
sport.

"I assured him that my answer was as earnest as it was accurate, and
that every word of my story was true.

"This only made him more furious. I, too, began to get angry, and as
he, evidently deeply agitated, still persisted in saying that my picture
could not have been painted from the dead Korinna, I swore to him
solemnly, with the most sacred oath I could think of, that it was really
so.

"On this he declared to me in words so tender and touching as I never
before heard from his lips, that if I were deceiving him his peace of
mind would be forever destroyed-nay, that he feared for his reason; and
when I