‘Not at all; if I had anything to do, I would leave you to the books; but I have several things to show you.’
‘I was wishing to look at those drawings. Who is that queen with the cross on her arm?’
‘St. Helena; it is a copy from a fresco by one of the old masters.’
‘What a calm grave face! what strange stiff drawing!—and yet it suits it: it is so solemn, with that matronly dignity. That other, too—those apostles, with their bowed heads and clasped hands, how reverent they look!’
‘They are from Cimabue,’ said John: ‘are they not majestically humble in adoration?’
Between, these two hung that awful dark engraving from Albert Durer.
‘These have been my companions,’ said John.
‘Through all the long months that you have been shut up here?’
‘My happiest times.’
‘Ah! that does, indeed, make me ashamed of my discontent and ingratitude,’ sighed Violet.