"How much larger than I have ever thought!" said Margery. "For what was it painted, uncle?"
"As an altar-piece for one of the oldest churches in Bologna. Do you recollect the story about Raphael's writing to Francia to oversee its proper and safe placing?"
"Oh, I do!" exclaimed Barbara, as Margery shook her head. "It was said that Francia never painted again, so overcome was he by the surpassing loveliness of Raphael's picture, and that he died from the effect of this feeling,—but," she went on impetuously, "I do not believe it; for see there!" pointing to Francia's Madonna with Sts. John and Jerome, "do you think that the artist who painted this picture is so very far behind even Raphael as to die of vexation at the difference between them?"
Barbara was so carried away by the picture that she had forgotten herself entirely, and spoke with her old-time frank eagerness, thereby thoroughly delighting Bettina and Mr. Sumner.
"I am glad you feel so," said the latter, very quietly, and with a strictly impersonal manner. "Francia, who belonged to the old Bolognese masters of the sixteenth century, was one of the most devout of painters, and everybody who studies his work must love it. See how pure and sweet are his expressions! How simple his composition! What harmony is in his coloring! How beyond those who painted after him!"
RAPHAEL. ACADEMY, BOLOGNA. SAINT CECILIA.
They tarried long before Francia's paintings and the St. Cecilia. Mr. Sumner told them to note the more subtle motif of Raphael's picture; the superior grace of the figures, their careful distribution, and the fine scheme of color; the sympathetic look in St. John's face; the grandly meditative St. Paul.
"I have a theory of my own about the meaning of this picture," said Bettina. "I thought it out one day when I was studying the photograph. I know it is always said, in descriptions of it, that all are listening to the music of the angels, but I do not think any of them save St. Cecilia hear the music of the angelic choir. She hears it, because she has so longed for it,—so striven to produce the highest music on earth. But the others are only moved by their sympathy with her. See the wistful look on St. John's face, and St. Augustine's also. And St. Paul is lost in wondering thought at St. Cecilia's emotion. And Mary Magdalene is asking us to look at her and try to understand her rapt upward look."