A girl of sixteen, however, is not expected to have the interest of her elders in old masters, as Irma frankly acknowledged.
"Of course I know the Last Judgment of Michelangelo's is a great altarpiece, but I do not care to look at it longer. I'm very glad, though, that you brought me to the Sistine Chapel. When I read about the great church ceremonies in which the Pope takes part, I can imagine the crowd here, and the Pope in the centre and——"
Before Irma had finished speaking, from behind a wooden partition that screened some men repairing the mosaic pavement, one of the workers stepped out, and with a finger of one hand on his lips, lifted the other on high with one finger significantly extended. When he saw that he had gained Marion's attention, he held up a small object, as if he wished Marion to examine it. Then Marion went forward, and the man put the object in his hand.
"Cheap enough for a franc," said Marion, displaying a small octagon of mosaics, green, red, and white.
"Why it's the same pattern as the pavement there."
"Of course, that's why I bought it," he replied, "as a souvenir of the Sistine Chapel."
"But ought you to take it?" asked Irma. "Had he the right to sell it?"
An expression of anger crossed Marion's face.