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But, only the next day, when I was expressing my admiration to an artist, who is one of the authorities, and knows all that is proper to be admired, I was met with, "O, you have seen that, have you? Shocking thing! Miserable taste miserable!" "Dear me," said I, with apprehension, "what is the matter with it?" "0," said he, "melodramatic, melodramatic terribly so!"
Others, whose word could not be doubted, had said that the Frenchman, an artist, had got into difficulties at the Casino and had obtained money from Miss Grant, some of it in the form of cheques, which he had boasted of and shown everywhere. Of course he must be a detestable creature; but that fact did not excuse Miss Grant's friendship with him; rather the contrary.
And yet, when the orchestra is in good tune together, and well played, you hear but one sound; and to you the result of all these various noises, each of which would have no meaning alone, is music composed by some great artist whom you do not see.
A good position from which to sketch it, however, was not easily reached, and it was only by getting close to the edge of the crevasse that the persevering artist at length attained his object.
According to the artist, each in his own way is in the crowd and of it. It is anything and everything except the Crucified One, as in St. Paul's it was anything and everything except the message spoken to those who, having ears, heard not.
"Comf'tabul place," he said. The artist flushed. "She pays the rent, I suppose. They would have turned me out long since. I haven't asked, but I know she pays it. There is no one else." "She is rich, probably," said Uncle William. "Rich?" The young man smiled bitterly. "She has what she earns. She works day and night. If she should stop, there would be nothing for either of us."
The old gentleman's heart was naturally warm towards his protege, whom they both missed greatly, and he spoke of her often. He could not help noticing that the artist was ever an excellent listener at such times and would even suspend his work for a moment that he might not lose a word.
The most recent and splendid revival of landscape painting is intimately connected with the renewed absorption of the artist in the study of the forest.
He enchants me." "It is rather a mixed style, don't you think?" "Yes." "The artist is not living?" "For heaven's sake, man! No." "Well, if he were alive today they would employ him to make those gewgaws some people present to leading ladies and to the deputies of their district. He would be the king of the manufacturers of ornate barometers." "It is undeniable that Bernini had a baroque taste."
More than one artist, looking at the pure brow, the discreet, composed mouth, the delicate nose, the small ears, the long lashes, and the dark-blue eyes filled with tenderness, in short, at the whole countenance expressive of placidity, has asked the great artist, "Is that a copy of a Raphael?"
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