She had never seen any fine pictures before. The Anderton family were
not lovers of art and, while in London, Halcyone had been too unhappy to
care or even ask to be taken to galleries--and Cheiron had not suggested
doing so; he was a good deal occupied himself. But now it was a great
pleasure to him to watch and see what impression they would make upon a
perfectly fresh eye. The immense cultivation of her mind would guide her
taste probably--but it would be an interesting experiment.
She stopped instantly in front of a Van Dyck, but she did not speak. In
fact she made no observations at all about the pictures until they were
back in their hotel. It was still very hot, although September had come,
and they had their dinner upon an open terrace.
And then her thoughts came out.
"I like the Guido Renis, Cheiron," she said; "his Magdalen in the Reale
Palazzo is exquisite--she is pure and good. But I do not like the saints
and martyrs in the throes of their agony, they say nothing to me, I have
no sympathy for them. I adore the Madonna and the Child; they touch
me--here," and she laid her hand upon her heart.
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