on the canvas in front of a great
mirror."

"Heyday, Antonio!" cried Salvator, laughing. "I believe you must have
been peeping into my studio without my knowledge, to know so well what
goes on there."

"Might not that have been?" said Antonio. "But let me go on. The
pictures which your mighty genius inspires I should by no means narrow
into one class so strictly as the pedantic masters try to do. In fact,
the term 'landscape,' as generally understood, applies badly to your
paintings, which I should prefer to call 'historical representations.'
In a deeper sense, it often seems that this or the other rock, that or
the other tree, gazes on us with an earnest look: and that this and the
other group of strangely-attired people is like some wonderful crag
which has come to life. All Nature, moving in marvellous unity, speaks
out the sublime thought which glowed within you. This is how I have
looked at your pictures, and this is how I am indebted to you, my great
and glorious master, for a profound understanding of art. But do not
suppose that, on this account, I have fallen into a childishness of
imitation. Greatly as I wish I possessed your freedom and daring of
brush, I must confess that the colouring of Nature seems to me to be
different from what I see represented in your pictures. I hold that,
even for the sake of practice, it is helpful to a learner to imitate
the style of this or that master: but still, when once he stands on his
own feet, to a certain extent, he should strive to represent Nature as
he sees it himself. This true seeing, this being at unity with oneself,
is the only thing which can produce character and truth. Guido was of
this opinion, and the unresting Preti, whom, as you know, they call the
Calabrese, a painter who certainly reflected on his art more than any
other, warned me in the same way against slavish imitation. And now you
know, Salvator, why I reverence you more than all the others, without
being in the slightest degree your imitator, in any way."

Salvator had been gazing fixedly into the young man's eyes as he spoke,
and he now clasped him stormily to his breast.

"Antonio," he said, "you have spoken very wise words of deep
significance. Young as you are in years, you surpass, in knowledge of
art, many of our old, much belauded masters, who talk a great deal of
nonsense about their art, and never get to the bottom of the matter.
Truly, when you spoke of my pictures, it seemed that I wa