Part 36 (2/2)
as I believe one calls it. This one is history.”
”That's what it is. It is truth,” agreed Cortes.
”Yes, but there are people who do not like the truth, my friend. I tell you: this is a man of flesh, somewhat enigmatic, like nature herself, and with arteries in which blood flows; this is a man who breathes and digests, and not merely a pleasant abstraction; you, who understand such things, will tell me that the drawing is perfect, and the colour such as it was in reality; but how about the person who doesn't ask for reality?”
”Stendhal, the writer, was affected that way by this picture,” said Cortes; ”he was shocked at its being hung among masterpieces.”
”He found it bad, no doubt.”
”Very bad?”
”Was this Stendhal English?”
”No, French.”
”Ah, then, you needn't be surprised. A Frenchman has no obligation to understand anything that's not French.”
”Nevertheless he was an intelligent man.”
”Did he perhaps have a good deal of veneration?”
”No, he boasted of not having any.”
”Doubtless he did have without suspecting it. With a man who had no veneration, what difference would it make whether there was one bad thing among a lot of good ones?”
The German with the green hat, who understood something of the conversation, was indignant at Caesar's irreverent ideas. He asked him if he understood Latin, and Caesar told him no, and then, in a strange gibberish, half Latin and half Italian, he let loose a series of facts, dates, and numbers. Then he a.s.serted that all artistic things of great merit were German: Greece. Rome, Gothic architecture, the Italian Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci, Velazquez, all German.
The snub-nosed young person, with his cape and his green hat with its c.o.c.k-feather, did not let a mouse escape from his German mouse-trap.
The data of the befeathered German were too much for Caesar, and he took his leave of the painters.
XVII. EVIL DAYS
Accompanied by Kennedy, Caesar called repeatedly on the most auspicious members of the French clerical element living in Rome, and found persons more cultivated than among the rough Spanish monks; but, as was natural, n.o.body gave him any useful information offering the possibility of his putting his financial talents to the proof.
”Something must turn up,” he used to say to himself, ”and at the least opening we will dive into the work.”
Caesar kept gathering notes about people who had connections in Spain with the Black party in Rome; he called several times on Father Herreros, despite his uncle's prohibition, and succeeded in getting the monk to write to the Marquesa de Montsagro, asking if there were no means of making Caesar Moneada, Cardinal Fort's nephew, Conservative Deputy for her district.
The Marquesa wrote back that it was impossible; the Conservative Deputy for the district was very popular and a man with large properties there.
When Holy Week was over, Laura and the Countess Brenda and her daughter decided to spend a while at Florence, and invited Caesar to accompany them; but he was quite out of harmony with the Brenda lady, and said that he had to stay on in Rome.
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