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Why is it, Dorian, that a man like the Duke of Berwick leaves the room of a club when you enter it? Why is it that so many gentlemen in London will neither go to your house nor invite you to theirs? You used to be a friend of Lord Cawdor. I met him at dinner last week. Your name happened to come up in conversation, in connection with the miniatures you have lent to the exhibition at the Dudley.
The doorway she covered with a curtain, and two more she hung on either side of the window, so that they could not be seen from below. Her books of reference, desk, note-books, and writing materials she put on the table, arranged the ornaments on the mantelpiece, and hung the miniatures and pictures on the walls. Then she sat down and looked about her, well pleased with the whole effect.
To inventive genius he added rather unusual gifts for drawing and painting; for a time followed the calling of a painter of miniatures and went to London to study under Benjamin West, whom all America of that day thought a genius scarcely second to Raphael or Titian.
The learned will distinguish amongst the most important of the manuscripts, the curious missal of archbishop Robert, which was brought from England about the year 1050, with the benedictionary, which was used at the coronation of the Anglo-Saxon Kings. These two manuscripts are ornamented with magnificent miniatures in the greek style of the empire.
And among the exquisite miniatures of the little Maximilian Sforza's Libro del Gesù in the Trivulzian library, we find a picture of Lodovico and Beatrice's child sitting at dinner with his mother and a lady bearing the name of Cecilia, in whom tradition sees the duke's old mistress, Countess Bergamini.
Her great-grandfather was the Duc de Chatillon, and she is great-granddaughter, or something that way, of Madame de Montespan, and her husband grand-nephew straight to Madame de la Valliere: their superb hotel is filled with pictures of all sizes, from miniatures by Petitot to full-lengths by Mignard, of illustrious and interesting family pictures in particular, Mignard's "La Valliere en Madeleine;" we returned to it again and again, as though we could never see it enough.
"Then you ought to see a doctor," I said, a bit alarmed. "No, no, Pudgie. My force is all going there all but the minimum that can't be helped, you know.... You've heard artists talk about 'putting their soul into their work, Pudgie?" "Don't rub it in about my rotten miniatures, Benlian," I asked him. "You've heard them say that; but they're charlatans, professional artists, all, Pudgie.
Her first teachers were Mlle. F. Lagarenine and D' Antissier; she later went to Paris, where she spent some time as a pupil of Millet. She made her début at Ghent in 1820, and in Brussels in 1821, with water-colors and pastels, and some of her miniatures figured in the various exhibitions at Brussels between 1830 and 1848, and in Ghent between 1835 and 1838.
Aunt and niece hung together over the case with its precious contents, the one exhausting herself in expressions of gratitude and appreciation, the other equally delighted, but quite unable to resist looking the gift horse in the mouth, and speculating in awed tones concerning the enormous cost of ivory miniatures.
"The Arabs appear to have some such taste for the fine arts as distinguishes the population of a mushroom American city," said John Effingham; "or one that runs to portraits, which are admired while the novelty lasts, and then are consigned to the first spot that offers to receive them." "Are your miniatures all safe, Eve?" Mr.
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