"Indeed," I replied, eagerly, "might I ask the names of the pictures? I
should know them at once."

"I have never seen them," said Mrs. Brodie; "they were not left to my
husband, who quarrelled with his father. Fortunately none of us cared
for Raphaels; but the most valuable pictures, including a Vandyck, were
entailed. Flora is particularly attached to Vandyck. He is always so
romantic, I think."

Flora, embarrassed by her mother's eulogy of family heirlooms, leaned
across, as if to address me, and said, "Oh, mamma, I don't think they
really were Raphaels; they were probably only by pupils--Giulio Romano,
Perino del Vaga, or Luca Penni."

"As you never saw them, my dear," said Mrs. Brodie, severely, "I don't
think you can possibly tell. Your grandfather" (she glared at me) "was
considered _the_ greatest expert in Europe, and described them in his
will as Raphaels. It would be impious to suggest that they are by any
one else. There were _two_ Holy Families. One of them was given to your
grandfather by the King of Holland in recognition of his services; and a
third was purchased direct from the Queen of Naples. But your father is
getting impatient for his cigar."

They rose, and bowed sweetly. I joined them in the glass winter-garden a
few minutes later.

"Have you been to the Pincio? But I forgot, of course you know Rome. I
do love the Pincio," sighed Mrs. Brodie over some needlework, and then,
as an afterthought, "Do you know the two things that have impressed me
most since I came here?"