Hiti. The Master himself owns the picture, stupid! But go on!—I always like to hear it again.
Josi. Yesh, go on!
Tiki. You see, it was very long ago. It is easy not to believe what happened three hundred years ago.
Josi. Yesh—very eashy: I’ve found dat out. Go on!
Tiki. Wiowani, the great painter, when he painted that picture, was old and tired of life, and he longed for rest.... So he painted a little porch, and a garden; and in the porch just one spray of blossom in an old blue jar to remind him of youth, an instrument of music to remind him of song, and overhead a lantern to give light when it grew dark.... And when the picture was done the Emperor himself came to look at it.... And, as he looked, he said: ‘Oh, Wiowani, in there, it seems to me, is rest! Would that you and I could go and live in a place like that for ever!’
And while he spoke the lantern began to glow.
Softly shedding its light on the floor below.
And the garden beyond grew dim, form within form,
But all the porch was brimming and bright and warm,—
A home with its doors thrown wide for a well-loved guest.