are going to Venice--round this way by Dresden?"

"Why, yes, mother, of course; but the Green vaults are here, and you
were bound to see the Green vaults."

"I wouldn't have come, if I had known it was so far," said Mrs. Copley.

But she relished her supper, and was not nervous, and slept well; and
Dolly was somewhat in hopes that Dresden was not a bad move after all.
They had to wait, as she said, for letters, and for the sight of the
glories that had attracted them hither. Several days passed by.

They passed in delights, for Dolly. Two mornings were spent in the
great picture gallery. Mrs. Copley's desires and expectations having
focussed upon the Green vaults, were hardly able to see anything else
clearly; indeed, she declared that she did not think the wonderful
Madonna was so very wonderful after all; no woman could stand upon
clouds in that way, and as she _was_ a woman, she did not see why the
painter did not exhibit her in a possible situation; and those little
angels at the foot of the picture--where was the other half of them
supposed to be? she did not like half of anything. But Dolly dreamed in
rapture, before this and many another wonder of art. Mrs. Copley made
processions round the rooms constantly, drawing, of course, St. Leger
with her; she could not be still. But Dolly would stop before a picture
and be immoveable for half an hour, drinking in pleasure and feeding
upon knowledge; and Rupert generally took post behind her and acted as
body-guard. What he made of the show, I do not know. Dolly asked him
how he liked it? He said, "first-rate."

"Well, what do you think of it, Rupert?" Dolly asked gaily.

"Well, I guess I don't just see into it," was the dubious answer. "If
these are likenesses of folks, they ain't like my folks."

"Oh, but they are not likenesses; most of them are not."

"What are they, then? and what is the good of 'em, if they don't mean
anything?"

"They are out of people's imagination; as the painter imagined such and
such persons might have looked, in such situations."

"How the painter imagined they might have looked!" cried Rupert.

"Yes. And they mean a great deal; all that was in the painter's mind."

"I don't care a red cent how a man fancies somebody looked. I'd like
the real thing, if I could get it. I'd go some ways to see how the
mother of Christ _did_ look; but you say that ain't it?"

"No," said Dolly, smiling.

Rupert surveyed the great picture again.