“Well, shall I show you the house,—there are some clever specimens of the Dutch masters here?” asked Crow, anxious to change the topic.
“Ay, with all my heart. I suppose I must accept this privilege as my experience of the much-boasted Irish hospitality,” said he with a sneer, which required all Crow's self-control to resist answering. To master the temptation, and give himself a few moments' repose, he went about opening windows and drawing back curtains, so as to admit a fuller and stronger light upon the pictures along the walls.
“There now,” said he, pointing to a large landscape, “there's a Both, and a fine one too; as mellow in color and as soft in distance as ever he painted.”
“That's a copy,” said the other. “That picture was painted by Woeffel, and I 'll show you his initials, too, A. W., before we leave it.”
“It came from the Dordrecht gallery, and is an undoubted Both!” exclaimed Crow, angrily.
“I saw it there myself, and in very suitable company, too, with a Snyders on one side and a Rubens on t' other, the Snyders being a Faltk, and the Rubens a Metziger; the whole three being positively dear at twenty pounds. Ay, here it is,” continued he, pointing to the hollow trunk of a decayed tree: “there's the initials. So much for your original by Both.”
“I hope you'll allow that to be a Mieris?” said Crow, passing on to another.
“If you hadn't opened the shutters, perhaps I might,” said Merl; “but with a good dash of light I see it is by Jansens,—and a clever copy, too.”
“A copy!” exclaimed the other.
“A good copy,” I said. “The King of Bavaria has the original. It is in the small collection at Hohen Schwangau.”