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Updated: June 17, 2025
It was necessary to form some plan at once for extracting money by means of Guido's receipts, since the marriage was not to take place, and as Monsieur Leroy altogether failed to hit upon any satisfactory scheme he consulted a lawyer in confidence, and asked what could be done to recover the value.
"In the study of my art, I have gained many a hint from the dead which the living could never have given me." "I can well imagine it," answered Miriam. "One clay image is readily copied from another. But let us first see Guido's picture. The light is favorable now."
Lamberti ceased speaking and a long silence followed, for he had nothing more to say. At last Guido straightened himself with an evident effort, as if he had forced himself to decide the matter, but he did not look at Lamberti. "Very well," he said. "I will speak to her." Lamberti bent his head, silently acknowledging Guido's sensible conclusion. Then Guido turned and went away alone.
As we approached it, the door swung open, and we went into a large room on the ground-floor, and, looking up to the ceiling, beheld Guido's Aurora. The picture is as fresh and brilliant as if he had painted it with the morning sunshine which it represents. It could not be more lustrous in its lines, if he had given it the last touch an hour ago.
It is through this tolerance, for example, that one of the freest of French critics of art, a true Voltairian, Stendhal, was led actually to find Guido's ideal of beauty higher than Raphael's, and to miss entirely the grandeur of Tintoretto. Critical opinion in France has not changed radically since Stendhal's day.
He did not know how they had got them now, but he was sure that some fraud had been committed. It was broad daylight still, and he examined the signature carefully while the lawyer held the half sheet of note paper before his eyes. The paper was certainly the Princess's, and the writing was Guido's beyond doubt. The Princess always used violet ink, and Guido had written with it.
"I do not know yet. Perhaps to China again. I shall get my orders in a few days." They reached the threshold of the door. Lamberti had been looking for Guido's face amongst the people he could see as he came up, but Guido was gone. "Good-bye," said Cecilia, softly. "Good night," Lamberti answered, almost in a whisper. "God bless you."
She turned into the right transept, and thence found her way to a shrine, in the extreme corner of the edifice, which is adorned with a mosaic copy of Guido's beautiful Archangel, treading on the prostrate fiend.
Roseton awoke. A silver clock upon the mantle, so constructed as to represent Guido's 'Hours, had just struck the hour of eight, accompanying the signal with the festal la ci darem of Don Giovanni. This was Roseton's invariable hour of waking, no matter what might be the season, or what might have been his time of retiring.
Monsieur Leroy answered all these questions with a conscientious desire to speak the truth, which was new to him, for he realised that only the truth could be of use in such a case, and that the slightest unfounded invention of his own against Guido's character must mislead the man he was consulting. In this he showed himself wiser than he often was.
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