y rock
immediately opposite he suddenly perceived a picture, without definite
edge it is true, but in composition more complete than anything he had
seen before. What had formerly delighted him had been, as it were, mere
sketches of one thing or another scattered in different places, but here
there was a large group of figures, painted for the most part in varied
tints of gray, and blue, and pink.

In the foreground of this picture a young man and young woman, radiant
both in face and apparel, stood before a figure draped in priestly
garments of sober gray. Behind them, in a vista, which seemed to be
filled with an atmosphere of light and joy, a band of figures were
dancing in gay procession, every line of the limbs and of the light
draperies suggesting motion and glee. How did he know that some of these
were men, and some were women? He had never seen such dresses as they
wore, which seemed to be composed of tunics and gossamer veils of blue
and red. Yet he did know quite distinctly which were men and which were
women, and he knew that it was a marriage scene. The bride wore a wreath
of flowers; the bridegroom carried a sheaf or garland of fruit or grain,
which seemed to be a part of the ceremony. Caius thought he was about
to offer it to the priest.

For some minutes the two looked up at the rock quite silently. Now the
lady answered his last remark:

"What is it you see?"

"You know it best; tell me what it is."

"It is a wedding. Don't you see the wedding dance?"

He had not got down from his horse; he had a feeling that if he had
alighted she would have mounted. He tried now, leaning forward, to tell
her how clearly he had seen the meaning, if so it might be called, of
the natural fresco, and to find some words adequately to express his
appreciation of its beauty. He knew that he had not expressed himself
well, but she did not seem dissatisfied at the tribute he paid to a
thing which she evidently regarded with personal love.

"Do you think," she said, "that it will alter soon, or become defaced?
It has been just the same for a year. It might, you know, become defaced
any day, and then no one would have seen it but ourselves. The
islanders, you know, do not notice it."

"Ah, yes," said Caius; "beauty is made up of two parts--the objects seen
and the understanding eye. We only know how much we are indebted to
training and education when we find out to what extent the natural eye
is blind."

This remark d