"Nay, I know not that; but it has been the dream and hope of my life to
visit Italy, the queen of all the arts; oh, madam! But the journey, and
we are all so poor."

"Find you the heart to go, I'll find the means. I know where to lay my
hand on ten golden angels: they will take you to Rome: and the girl with
you, if she loves you as she ought."

They sat till midnight over this theme. And, after that day, Gerard
recovered his spirits, and seemed to carry a secret talisman against all
the gibes and the harsh words that flew about his ears at home.

Besides the money she procured him for the journey, Margaret Van Eyck
gave him money's worth. Said she, "I will tell you secrets that I
learned from masters that are gone from me, and have left no fellow
behind. Even the Italians know them not; and what I tell you now in
Tergou you shall sell hear in Florence. Note my brother Jan's pictures:
time, which fades all other paintings, leaves his colours bright as the
day they left the easel. The reason is, he did nothing blindly, in
a hurry. He trusted to no hireling to grind his colours; he did it
himself, or saw it done. His panel was prepared and prepared again--I
will show you how--a year before he laid his colour on. Most of them are
quite content to have their work sucked up and lost, sooner than not
be in a hurry. Bad painters are always in a hurry. Above all, Gerard,
I warn you use but little oil, and never boil it: boiling it melts that
vegetable dross into its heart which it is our business to clear away;
for impure oil is death to colour. No; take your oil and pour it into
a bottle with water. In a day or two the water will turn muddy: that is
muck from the oil. Pour the dirty water carefully away and add fresh.
When that is poured away, you will fancy the oil is clear. You mistaken.