The poet did not seem to heed or hear these words, but stood calmly watching the boy, who continued to turn his eyes alternately from the picture to the original.
‘I suspect, boy,’ said he, with a smile, ‘that your mind-drawn picture satisfied you better—is it not so?’
‘O! you who can so read hearts, why will you not interpret mine?’ cried Gerald, in rapture; for now to his memory in quick succession were rising the brilliant fancies, the splendid images, the heart-moving words of one whose genius had been a sort of worship to him.
‘This, too, is fame!’ said the poet, turning to the Duchess.
‘But we are keeping you too long from your guests, madam; and Gherardi and I will have many an opportunity of meeting. Come up here to-morrow in the forenoon, and let me talk with you. The youth is more complimentary to me than was the cardinal yesterday.’
‘What was it that he said?’ asked she.
‘He wondered I should have written the tragedy of “Saul,” since we had it already in the Bible! To-morrow, Gherardi, about eleven, or even earlier—a rivederlo!’
As with slow steps, half in a dream, and scarce daring to credit his senses, Gerald moved down the stairs, the poet overtook him, and pressing a purse into his hand, said—
‘You must have some more suitable dress than this, and remember to-morrow.’