dead.

In exultation she exclaimed, “I have kissed thy lips!”



-------------------------------------

He who influences the thought of his time influences
the thought of all the time that follows. And he has
made his impress upon eternity.


THE MASTER


Giovanni Bellini was his name.

Yet when people who loved beautiful pictures spoke of “Gian,” every
one knew who was meant; but to those who worked at art he was “The
Master.” He was two inches under six feet in height, strong and
muscular. In spite of his seventy summers his carriage was erect, and
there was a jaunty suppleness about his gait that made him seem much
younger. In fact, no one would have believed he had lived over his
threescore and ten, were it not for the iron-gray hair that fluffed
out all around under the close-fitting black cap, and the bronzed
complexion—sun-kissed by wind and by weather—which formed a trinity of
opposites that made people turn and stare.

Queer stories used to be told about him. He was a skilful gondolier,