A night of untold beauty.
Cobwebs on the heavens.
A gray winter sky, brightened by the moon shining through it.
Bare branches of hundreds of trees interlacing their silvery boughs.
And a cottage with thatched roof and square leaded panes—a setting for romance, for dreams of visionary splendor.
Is the master at home, asked a strange woman of the old man servant.
He has not yet returned.
Then I will wait for him.
And despite the protests of the servant, Donna Maria entered the room. It was a story and a half in height.
There was a huge fireplace, and everywhere, without arrangement, in the happy disorder of a studio, were canvases and palettes.