verbeck's
Triumph of Religion in Art lose nothing; on the contrary, that
compunction distinguishes his figures."

"But thou canst not compare him with Overbeck!" said Maryan, with
indignation.

"I can, I can! I make him equal to Overbeck; and I consider him
superior to Fuhrich and Veit--"

"I will give thee Veit, but as to Overbeck, that marvellous
melancholy which fills the eyes of his women--"

"It is earthly, earthly, rather than that perfect expression from
beyond which is dominant in Steinle's figures. In this regard
Steinle is the only man whom we may compare with Fra Angelico--"

"I would rather compare him with Lippo-Mani."

"Perhaps," said the baron, half agreeing, "as Fuhrich, whenever I
look at him, reminds me of Buffalmaco."

"And me, of Piero di Cosimo."

"No, no," objected the baron, "Piero di Cosimo in coloring is
different from Fuhrich and Buffalmaco."

"I can compare Buffalmaco, to-day, with Rossetti alone."

In this manner they conversed some time longer of the Italian
painters of the epoch preceding Raphael, and of their modern
followers. At times disputing slightly; at times growing
enthusiastic in company, till they agreed in one opinion; namely,
that the greatest master of painting, whom it was impossible to
compare with anyone among contemporaries, was Dante Gabriel
Rossetti, an Englishman, but that the school of German Nazarenes,
to which Overbeck, Steinle, Fuhrich, and others belonged, was, in
spite of certain inequalities and weaknesses, altogether pure
Quatrocento.

"Yes, Quatrocento," finished the baron; "who knows even if they
are not purer, more perfect Quatrocento than Rossetti and
Morris."

Kranitski listened, spoke rarely, while something within him
began to weep. He, too, loved art, but how far was he now from
its loftiest caprices. How much would he give if those dear boys
there, those noble hearts, would speak of something else to him,
of something nearer. After a time he remarked with a smile to
which he brought himself with effort:

"Then you have the first parts of that golden fleece which you
are to bear beyond the sea?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the baron, "the golden fleece! splendidly
said! In truth, we shear the sheep, or, if you like, the
shepherds, for you cannot imagine what a rheumatism of thought in
this matter prevails throughout the country. No man knows the
value of what he has; no man knows what he possesses. There is no
conception of art; no aesthe