And these she should offer to the Children of the Morrow together, both at the same time. Either should be the warranty of the other, as the olive-branch justifies the sword, the sword maintains the olive-branch. So should that figure be set up. And benignly brooding over all, exactly where she and Cosimo now stood, should be two larger and vaguer shapes, rather difficult to do, but probably to be achieved by scraping and scumbling and pumice. These should symbolize the Divine Sanction. Soft and reassuring rays should shoot from their angelic eyes and rest upon the Earthly figure below; this should turn up its glad gaze to receive the rays. In one sense, it was true, Amory did not approve of this paraphernalia of angel-shapes, but merely as emblems they might prove serviceable. They were prejudices that must be accepted _pro tem_. Though she dreamed of To-morrow, she must paint her picture in terms of To-day. Rapidly and earnestly she began to describe the picture to Cosimo.... "Oh! By Jove, Amory----" he breathed, wellnigh breathless before the daring of her genius. "And those two wonderful shapes, just here, exactly where we are."... "Looking down and comprehending everything----" "Oh--like you, Amory!" "Like you, too, Cosimo--for, if you don't actually paint the picture, you help in other ways----" "Shall I, Amory," he breathed--"shall I always be there to help in those other ways?" Her eyelids fluttered and dropped. "You _do_ understand me as nobody else does."... "I do--I do--I'm sure I do----" "And you understand, too, that there's always that other kiss--the kiss of the Antinöus----" "It shall be _our_ picture, Amory--all three of us," he said, with ardour. "I hope we're not acting in haste, Cosimo." "I'm quite sure we're not. Oh, let it be soon, Amory!" He had put his hand on her arm, but she drew a little away. "Don't touch me just yet, Cosimo, please," she asked him. "No--I beg your pardon," he said humbly. "I know that in a sense you aren't here--you're creating. By Jove, it _is_ wonderful!" He would have felt unworthy of her had he wanted to kiss her just then. And, down below them, Jellies and her party rose, and a Marshal made a signal, and the conductor gave a couple of taps with his baton, and the bored musicians reached for their instruments, and their eyes rested sullenly on the tip of the poised stick.... "Hooray--let 'er go!" 'Orris roared huskily.... And once more the Wedding March broke forth. END OF BOOK ONE ENTR' ACTE Two men turned out of the gateway of the McGrath and walked up the street that led to the Euston Road. Just before they reached the corner one of them stopped and gave a lingering, but sardonic, look behind him. He was Jowett, the Professor of Painting, and his companion was the friend who had once talked with him at a students' dance, while the Discobolus and the Gladiator had held the shawls and fans of the dancers. Then they went forward together again.