When I awoke the fresh air of morning was playing over me; the birds
were already awake and twittering in the trees around, as if they were
making game of me. I started up and looked about; the fountain in
the garden was still playing, but nothing was to be heard within the
house. I peeped through the green blinds into one of the rooms, where
I could see a sofa and a large round table covered with gray linen.
The chairs were all standing against the wall in perfect order;
the blinds were down at all the windows, as if the house had been
uninhabited for example, with many a loving thought of my fair,
distant home.
Meanwhile, the painter had arranged near the window one of the frames
upon which a large piece of paper was stretched. An old hovel was
cleverly drawn in charcoal upon the paper, and within it sat the
Blessed Virgin with a lovely, happy face, upon which there was withal
a shade of melancholy. At her feet in a little nest of straw lay the
Infant Jesus--very lovely, with large serious eyes. Without, upon the
threshold of the open door were kneeling two shepherd lads with staff
and wallet. "You see," said the painter, "I am going to put your head
upon one of these shepherds, and so people will know your face and,
please God, take pleasure in it long after we are both under the sod,
and are ourselves kneeling happily before the Blessed Mother and her
Son like those shepherd lads.
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