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The Duke listened patiently and then summoned Leonardo. The painter's gracious speech soon convinced the Duke that men of genius do not work like hired laborers. This painting was to be a masterpiece, fit monument to a wise and virtuous ruler. So consummate a performance must not be hastened; besides there was no one to pose for either the head of Christ or of Judas.

For if the colossal man standing there as God made him, reveling in the sluicing of icy sheets of water, was a picture for a painter's delight, the figure of the woman, sheltered from any eye, but likewise stripped to the flesh was one almost as heroic and far lovelier. Alexander too, was availing herself of that strong tonic which would have brought collapse to a weakling.

It changed hands for large sums during the painter's lifetime, and is now in the Quincy A. Shaw collection, Boston, Mass. The Woman Sewing by Lamplight, painted in 1872, and sold in 1873 for 38,500 francs, the highest price at that time ever paid for one of Millet's works. The Shepherdess, painted in 1862, and exhibited at the Salon of 1864, also again at the Exposition Universelle of 1867.

'Dost thou think thou canst make aught of the boy? he asked, spreading out the drawings before Verocchio. The painter's quick eyes examined the work with deep interest. 'Send him to me at once, he said. 'This is indeed marvellous talent.

We shall have the painter's wife, Lydia Maitland, and her brother, Florent Chapron, to represent a little of France, a little of America, and a little of Africa; for their grandfather was the famous Colonel Chapron mentioned in the Memorial, who, after 1815, became a planter in Alabama.

Noel saw the painter's lips move. The sick woman's whole figure writhed. "It is mania, your painting!" She looked at Noel with a smile. "Will you have some tea, mademoiselle? Monsieur Barra, some tea?" The soldier said thickly: "No, madame; in the trenches we have tea enough. It consoles us. But when we get away give us wine, le bon vin; le bon petit vin!" "Get some wine, Pierre!"

Like fauns, they combine a certain wildness, a dithyrambic ecstasy, a delight in rapid motion as they revel amid clouds and flowers, with the permanent and all-pervading sweetness of the painter's style. Correggio's sensibility to light and colour that quality which makes him unique among painters was on a par with his feeling for form.

Strange, it was Rosa's portrait and he knew not whether this picture had just now arisen warm with life merely out of the force of the idea which was kindling him, or whether it had actually been formed over there in its golden frame by a painter's hand." Then the cat mewed again: "That is your young wife Rosalinde. The moonbeam chases her; see how its brightness kisses her temples unceasingly.

As soon as she learned to walk she found her way to her father's studio, and until she was fifteen years old she was always with him and helped him as if she had been one of his pupils. She was dressed too as a boy, and visitors to the studio never guessed that the clever, handsome boy was really the painter's daughter.

These pacific gentlemen were, for the most part, painted with the left hand gloved and resting upon the hip; the right one was bare, a sort of token of disarmament which one might take for a painter's epigram. Some of them had allowed their favorite dogs to share the honors of the picture.