But Magnus was already on his feet, announcing coldly:
“My daughter, Maria. Mr. Henry Wondergood!”
I turned about quickly and—how can I express the extraordinary when it is inexpressible? It was something more than beautiful. It was terrible in its beauty. I do not want to seek comparisons. I shall leave that to you. Take all that you have ever seen or ever known of the beautiful on earth: the lily, the stars, the sun, but add, add still more. But not this was the awful aspect of it: There was something else: the elusive yet astonishing similarity—to whom? Whom have I met upon this earth who was so beautiful—so beautiful and awe-inspiring—awe-inspiring and unapproachable. I have learned by this time your entire archive, Wondergood, and I do not believe that it comes from your modest gallery!
“Madonna!” mumbled Toppi in a hoarse voice, scared out of his wits.
So that is it! Yes, Madonna. The fool was right, and I, Satan, could understand his terror. Madonna, whom people see only in churches, in paintings, in the imagination of artists. Maria, the name which rings only in hymns and prayer books, heavenly beauty, mercy, forgiveness and love! Star of the Seas! Do you like that name: Star of the Seas?
It was really devilishly funny. I made a deep bow and almost blurted out:
“Madam, I beg pardon for my unbidden intrusion, but I really did not expect to meet you here. I most humbly beg your pardon, but I could not imagine that this black bearded fellow has the honor of having you for his daughter. A thousand times I crave your pardon for——”
But enough. I said something else.
“How do you do, Signorina. It is indeed a pleasure.”
And she really did not indicate in any way that she was already acquainted with Me. One must respect an incognito if one would remain a gentleman and only a scoundrel would dare to tear a mask from a lady’s face! This would have been all the more impossible, because her father, Thomas Magnus, continued to urge us with a chuckle: