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Updated: May 27, 2025
His face between the curtains reminded me strangely of the awful moment in the Prestonville Museum paradoxically, for he was as genuine and reassuring as the Del Puente Giorgione had been baffling and false. We began dinner with the stiffness of men between whom much is unsaid. As the oystershells departed, however, we had found common memories.
Hanson Brooks had bought it and hung it in "The Curlews," where it bid fair to become legendary once more, but at last had lent it with his other pictures to the Prestonville Museum of Science and the Fine Arts, the goal of my present quest.
"That's right," echoed the Critic, as the three locked arms for the stroll downtown, leaving the bewildered Patron to find his way alone to the Park East. The train swung down a tawny New England river towards Prestonville as I reviewed the stages of a great curiosity. At last I was to see the Del Puente Giorgione.
While the picture lay perdu at Brooks's, there had been disquieting gossip; the Pretorian Club, which is often terribly right in such matters, agreed that he had been badly sold. None of this I believed for an instant. What could one doubt in a picture owned by Mantovani and certified by Anitchkoff? Upon this point of rumination the train stopped at Prestonville.
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