Poor Cynthia, with her throat swathed up, stood behind with her feather-fan; but the painter looked distastefully at her, and did not repeat his glance: he had no mind to introduce her, even as a foil. "I must make a saint or an angel of you, since you are for a Cardinal," said he, with a grave smile; "and it will not be difficult." "Surely, this old gown is not very angelical?" said the Duchess. "No matter. A nimbus and pincers will identify you with St. Agatha or St. Apollonia, quite sufficiently for the purpose." He began to draw with great diligence, and was terribly silent. The Duchess felt inclined to yawn. "More to the right," he said, abruptly, as she inclined her head a little to the left. "Perdona, illustrissima." "Pray do not stand on ceremony," said she. Her countenance had become vacant, and he felt he must call up its expression. "Do you take any interest in art, Signora?" "O yes, a great deal. I only wish I knew more about it." "Do you know what is its great object?" "To address the eye?" "To address the mind." "Certainly. Of course. I ought to have said so." "The painter who only aims to deceive the eye is ignorant of the true dignity of art." "To deceive the eye, and to please it, however, are different things." "I grant it; but the eye of an intelligent, a refined person, is not pleased by that which offends the mind." "I thought you Venetians cared more for colour than for drawing or expression." "I did so as long as I was a pupil of Giorgione's. But when I came to Rome, Michael Angelo showed me where I was wrong. He said, 'It is a pity you Venetians do not learn to draw better in your youth, and adopt a better manner of study.' I took the hint, and drew diligently from the living model. But even this did not content him. 'You neglect the ideal beauty of form,' said he, 'and propriety of expression,' I treasured this hint, too. I said to him, 'If you would condescend to unite our colouring to your drawing, you would be--what, after all, you are already--such a master as the world ne'er saw,' 'That may not be,' said he, half-smiling; 'you might as well try to graft a rose on an oak: but if _you_, my son, would unite good drawing to your colouring, you might distance Raffaelle.' And, taking up a piece of pipeclay, he sketched out a Lazarus, and splashed in the colour. I do not altogether like it, the action is too violent, and he has made him as black as your Moorish girl; but still it is a grand thing--a very grand thing--the action of the toe, trying to disentangle the bandage of the left leg, is wonderfully original. I have tried to paint all the rest of my picture up to it. A little more to the right, Signora!" "Cardinal Ippolito told me that picture of yours was very grand," said the Duchess. "He especially admired the different expressions of the two sisters. But he thought the figure of the Saviour too small."