of it, trying again and again--in vain. Even hands were difficult
enough to him, at this time; but feet, and bare legs! Well, he'll have
a try, he thinks, and gets really a fair line at last, when you are
close to it; but, laying the light on the ground afterwards, he dare
not touch this precious and dear-bought outline. Stops all round it, a
quarter of an inch off, [Footnote: Perhaps it is only the restorer's
white on the ground that stops; but I think a restorer would never have
been so wise, but have gone right up to the outline, and spoiled all.]
with such effect as you see. But if you want to know what sort of legs
and feet he _can_ draw, look at our _lambs_, in the corner of
the fresco under the arch on your left!

And there is one on your right, though more repainted--the little
Virgin presenting herself at the Temple,--about which I could also say
much. The stooping figure, kissing the hem of her robe without her
knowing, is, as far as I remember, first in this fresco; the origin,
itself, of the main design in all the others you know so well; (and
with its steps, by the way, in better perspective already than most of
them).

"_This_ the original one!" you will be inclined to exclaim, if you
have any general knowledge of the subsequent art. "_This_ Giotto!
why it's a cheap rechauffe of Titian!" No, my friend. The boy who tried
so hard to draw those steps in perspective had been carried down
others, to his grave, two hundred years before Titian ran alone at
Cadore. But, as surely as Venice looks on the sea, Titian looked upon
this, and caught the reflected light of it forever.

What kind of boy is this, think you, who can make Titian his copyist,
--Dante his friend? What new power is here which is to change the heart