"Yes," said Dolly with a smile at him; "but God gives it to every one that wants it. And when the King comes, Mr. St. Leger, He will gather His saints to Him, and none others; don't yon want to be counted among them then?--I do!"
I don't know what had wrought up Dolly to this sudden burst; but she dropped her veil upon eyes all alight, while some soft dripping tears were falling from them like diamonds. Every one knows the peculiar brilliancy of a sunlit shower; and the two young men remained fairly dazzled. Rupert, however, looked very grave, while the other wore a cloud on his brow.
Dolly was as matter-of-fact as possible when she came out from under her veil again; and declared she should not go to a hotel in Dresden, but take a lodging.
"Why?" Lawrence enquired.
"Cheaper. And pleasanter. And much quieter. We shall probably have to stay several days in Dresden. We must get letters there."
"But you do not know where to go to find lodgings."
"Yes, I do. Or I shall. I hope so. I have sent for the address of the woman with whom Lady Brierley had lodgings a whole winter."
"Where do you expect to receive this address?"
"In Leipzig, I hope."
"Really, Dolly, you take a good deal upon you, considering how old you are," said her mother. "Don't you think Mr. St. Leger knows best?"
"No, mother, not for you and me. Oh, _he_ can go to a hotel. He will, of course."
However, this Mr. St. Leger did not desire. He was obliged to do it, nevertheless. The letter was found at Leipzig, the lodgings were found in Dresden, but not roomy enough to hold them all. Mrs. Copley and her daughter and their attendant Rupert were very comfortably accommodated; and to Dolly's great joy found themselves alone. Frau Wetterhahn was all obligingness, hearing Lady Brierley's name, and made them right welcome. This Frau Wetterhahn! She was the most lively, active, capable, talkative, bright-eyed, good-humoured, free and easy little woman that you can imagine. She was really capable, and cooked them a nice supper. Dolly had unpacked a few things, and felt herself at home, and the three sat down comfortably to their meal.
"Now, mother, dear," said Dolly, "this is pleasant!"
"Well," said Mrs. Copley, "I think it is. If you only hadn't sent Lawrence away!"
"He couldn't stay, mother. Frau Wetterhahn sent him away--not I. Change will be good for him. And for me too. I am going to make believe we are at home for a little while. And you are going to see the Green vaults; and I am going to see everything. And these rooms are so cosy!"
"Aren't you going to see the Green vaults too?"
"Indeed, I hope so. But we may have to wait a day or two, dear mother; that will be good, and you can have a rest."
"I'm sure I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I am just tired of riding, and more tired yet of seeing everlasting new things. I am aching for something I've seen before in my life."
"Well, here's a cup of coffee, mother."
Mrs. Copley tasted.
"If you think _that's_ like anything I used to have at home, I'm sorry for you!" she said with a reproachful look.
"Don't you like it? I do. I like it because it is different. But I think it is very good, mother. And look--here is some delicious bread."
"It's like no bread I ever saw till I came to Germany. Oh, mercy! why must folks have so many ways? I wonder how things will be at Venice!"
"Stranger than ever, mother, I'm afraid."
"Then I shall get tired of it. Isn't this a very roundabout way that we are going to Venice--round this way by Dresden?"
"Why, yes, mother, of course; but the Green vaults are here, and you were bound to see the Green vaults."
"I wouldn't have come, if I had known it was so far," said Mrs. Copley.
But she relished her supper, and was not nervous, and slept well; and Dolly was somewhat in hopes that Dresden was not a bad move after all.
They had to wait, as she said, for letters, and for the sight of the glories that had attracted them hither. Several days passed by.
They passed in delights, for Dolly. Two mornings were spent in the great picture gallery. Mrs. Copley's desires and expectations having focussed upon the Green vaults, were hardly able to see anything else clearly; indeed, she declared that she did not think the wonderful Madonna was so very wonderful after all; no woman could stand upon clouds in that way, and as she _was_ a woman, she did not see why the painter did not exhibit her in a possible situation; and those little angels at the foot of the picture--where was the other half of them supposed to be? she did not like half of anything. But Dolly dreamed in rapture, before this and many another wonder of art. Mrs. Copley made processions round the rooms constantly, drawing, of course, St. Leger with her; she could not be still. But Dolly would stop before a picture and be immoveable for half an hour, drinking in pleasure and feeding upon knowledge; and Rupert generally took post behind her and acted as body-guard. What he made of the show, I do not know. Dolly asked him how he liked it? He said, "first-rate."
"Well, what do you think of it, Rupert?" Dolly asked gaily.
"Well, I guess I don't just see into it," was the dubious answer. "If these are likenesses of folks, they ain't like my folks."
"Oh, but they are not likenesses; most of them are not."
"What are they, then? and what is the good of 'em, if they don't mean anything?"
"They are out of people's imagination; as the painter imagined such and such persons might have looked, in such situations."
"How the painter imagined they might have looked!" cried Rupert.
"Yes. And they mean a great deal; all that was in the painter's mind."
"I don't care a red cent how a man fancies somebody looked. I'd like the real thing, if I could get it. I'd go some ways to see how the mother of Christ _did_ look; but you say that ain't it?"
"No," said Dolly, smiling.
Rupert surveyed the great picture again.
"Don't you think it is beautiful, Rupert?" Dolly pursued, curious to know what went on in his thoughts.
"I've seen as handsome faces--and handsomer," he said slowly; "and I like flesh and blood a long sight better than a painting, anyhow."
"Handsome?" said Dolly. "Oh, it is not _that_--it is so much more!"----
"What is it, Miss Dolly?" said Lawrence, just then coming up behind her. "I should like to hear your criticism. Do put it in words."
"That's not easy; and it is not criticism. But I'll tell you how it seems to me; as the painting, not of anybody's features, but of somebody's nature, spirit. It is a painting of the spiritual character."
"Mental traits can be expressed in words, though," said Lawrence.
"You'll go on, I hope?"
"I cannot," said Dolly. "It is not the lovely face, Mr. Babbage; it is thought and feeling, love and purity, and majesty--but the majesty of a person who has no thought of herself."
Dolly could not get out of that one room; she sat before the Raphael, and then stood fixed before the "Notte" or the "Magdalene" of Correggio; and would not come away. Rupert always attended on her, and Mrs. Copley as regularly made progresses through the rooms on Lawrence's arm, till she declared herself tired out. They were much beholden to Lawrence and his good offices these days, more than they knew; for it was past the season when the gallery was open to the public, and entrance was obtained solely by the influence of St.
Leger's mediation and money; how much of the latter they never knew.
Lawrence was a very good escort also; his address was pleasant, and his knowledge of men and things sufficient for useful purposes; he knew in general what was what and who was who, and was never at a loss. Rupert followed the party like a faithful dog, ready for service and with no opportunity to show it; Lawrence held the post of leader and manager now, and filled it well. In matters of art, however, I am bound to say, though he could talk more, he knew as little as Rupert himself.
"What is to be done to-morrow?" he asked, in the evening of that second day.