"These many figures, each possessing distinct personality, were evolved from the mind of the artist. We can never think of him as going about through the city streets seeking models for his work as did Leonardo da Vinci. His figures are as purely ideal as the creations of the old Greeks. Now think of all this. Think of the sphere of the old master's thought during these four years, and you will not wonder that he could not sleep, but, restless, came again and again at night with a candle fixed in his paper helmet to light the work of his hands."
All were silent. Never before had they seen Mr. Sumner so evidently moved by his subject; and this made it all the more impressive. They became impatient as they heard a little group of tourists chatting and laughing in front of the Last Judgment; and when, finally, a crowd of travellers with a noisy guide entered the Chapel, they quickly decided to go away and to come again the next day.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Sumner," said Barbara, in a low, sympathetic voice, as she found herself beside him as they came out through the long corridor; "you have made it all very plain to us,—the greatness, the skill, the patience of Michael Angelo. It is as if he had been inspired by God."
"And why not?" was the gentle reply, as he looked down into the upturned face so full of sweet seriousness. "Do you believe that the days of inspiration were confined to past ages? God is the same as then, and close at hand as then; man is the same and with the same needs.
"The passive master lent his hand
To the vast soul that o'er him planned,
wrote our Emerson, showing he believed, as I firmly do, that we ourselves now work God's will, as men did ages ago; that God inspires us even as he did the old Prophets."
"I love to believe so," said Barbara, simply.
"And," continued Mr. Sumner, "this does not lessen any man, but rather makes him greater. Surely God's working through him makes him truly grander than the mere work itself ever could."
As Malcom, Barbara, and Bettina drove homeward, their talk took a serious turn. Malcom was deeply impressed by his uncle's last words, which he had overheard, when taken into connection with all the preceding thoughts about Michael Angelo. Finally he asked:—
"And then what can a man do? What did Michael Angelo, himself, do if, as uncle suggested, God wrought through him?"