"Yes. Is not that handsome man with noble features Frans Floris, the

Flemish Raphael?"

"Yes; he was presented to you yesterday by Mr. Van de Werve, and you may

remember how enthusiastically he eulogized Italian art."

"Near him is a singular-looking person; his very attitude is amusing, and

his gestures force one to laugh."

"He is Peter Breughel, a humorist, who so designs his pictures that they

seem painted only by way of jest. He is, however, in good repute as an

artist. I saw recently one of his pictures in which he represents the

Saviour carrying his cross to Calvary. In this he represents pilgrims with

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their staves, Spanish soldiers in doublets, monks and nuns; there is even

a statue of the Blessed Virgin suspended on a tree, and that at a time

when there was no Christianity, no Saint James of Compostella, neither

convents nor Spaniards."

"That is indeed singular," said Deodati, smiling. "It seems to me that

such conceits do but very little honor to the artist. Is it a custom among

other artists in the Netherlands to sport thus with holy things?"

"No; Signor Breughel is an exception. The other gentlemen in company with

the Flemish Raphael are more serious men. Michael Coxie, whom you may

distinguish by the gray doublet, excels in his portraits of women. The

handsome young man standing behind him is Martin de Vos, a pupil of

Floris; he evinces a high order of talent and gives promise of great

perfection in his art. The others, as well as I can recognize them at this

distance, are Lambert Van Noord, Egide Mostaert, William Key, Bernard de

Rycke, and the two brothers Henry and Martin Van Cleef, all celebrated

historical, fancy, or portrait painters. Near them is Master Grimmer, a

famous landscape-painter; and the gentleman now speaking is a certain Ack

of Antwerp, who has painted the large glass windows of the church of Saint

Gudula at Brussels. The old man sitting apart near the piano is Christian;

he has marvellous skill in playing on many instruments, but he excels most

on the violin. You will probably hear him this evening."

Simon Turchi continued to converse familiarly with the Signor Deodati, who

was charmed with his intelligence, but still more with the kind

consideration which made him refrain from joining in the general

conversation in order to entertain an old man.

Geronimo had several times approached his uncle, but each time the latter

had playfully sent him away, telling him that the agreeable company of the

Signor Turchi sufficed for him, and that he preferred a quiet

conversation.




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