"If you really admire the picture," he said, "pray do not say so. If
it is in truth a work of art, let it speak to you as art only, and
spare the poor workman who has called it into existence the shame of
having to confess that it is not above human praise. The only true
criticism of high art is silence--silence as grand as heaven
itself."

He spoke with energy, and his dark eyes flashed. Amy (Mrs. Everard)
looked at him curiously.

"Say now!" she exclaimed, with a ringing laugh, "aren't you a little
bit eccentric, signor? You talk like a long-haired prophet! I never
met an artist before who couldn't stand praise; it is generally a
matter of wonder to me to notice how much of that intoxicating sweet
they can swallow without reeling. But you're an exception, I must
admit. I congratulate you!"

Cellini bowed gaily in response to the half-friendly, half-mocking
curtsey she gave him, and, turning to me again, said:

"I have a favour to ask of you, mademoiselle. Will you sit to me for
your portrait?"

"I!" I exclaimed, with astonishment. "Signor Cellini, I cannot
imagine why you should wish so to waste your valuable time. There is
nothing in my poor physiognomy worthy of your briefest attention."

"You must pardon me, mademoiselle," he replied gravely, "if I
presume to differ from you. I am exceedingly anxious to transfer