only about four feet wide each, in odd-shaped bits of wall--quarters of
circles; representing--that on the left, the Meeting of Joachim and
Anna at the Golden Gate; and that on the right, the Birth of the
Virgin.

No flourish of trumpets here, at any rate, you think! No gold on the
gate; and, for the birth of the Virgin--is this all! Goodness!--nothing
to be seen, whatever, of bas-reliefs, nor fine dresses, nor graceful
pourings out of water, nor processions of visitors?

No. There's but one thing you can see, here, which you didn't in
Ghirlandajo's fresco, unless you were very clever and looked hard for
it--the Baby! And you are never likely to see a more true piece of
Giotto's work in this world.

A round-faced, small-eyed little thing, tied up in a bundle!

Yes, Giotto was of opinion she must have appeared really not much else
than that. But look at the servant who has just finished dressing her;
--awe-struck, full of love and wonder, putting her hand softly on the
child's head, who has never cried. The nurse, who has just taken her,
is--the nurse, and no more: tidy in the extreme, and greatly proud and
pleased: but would be as much so with any other child.

Ghirlandajo's St. Anne (I ought to have told you to notice that,--you
can afterwards) is sitting strongly up in bed, watching, if not
directing, all that is going on. Giotto's lying down on the pillow,
leans her face on her hand; partly exhausted, partly in deep thought.
She knows that all will be well done for the child, either by the
servants, or God; she need not look after anything.