"What's the use of things that give folks so much trouble?" said Rupert.
"A matter of taste!" said Lawrence, shrugging his shoulders. "But I am glad to have been through those rooms myself; and I never should, but for you, Mrs. Copley. I suppose there is hardly the like to be seen anywhere else."
"What delicious things there were in the ivory room," said Dolly.
"Those drunken musicians, mother, of Albert Durer; and some of the vases; how beautiful they were!"
"I did not see the musicians," said Mrs. Copley. "I don't see how drunken musicians, or drunken anything, could be pretty. Odd taste, I think."
"Then perhaps you didn't like the piece with the fallen angels?" said Rupert. "That beat me!"
"How could there be peace with the fallen angels?" Mrs. Copley asked scornfully. At which, however, there was a great burst of laughter. "I liked best of all the room where the egg was, I believe. But the silver room was magnificent."
"I liked the ivory better than the silver, mother."
"Who does it all belong to?" Rupert asked.
"The reigning house of Saxony," Lawrence answered.
"The whole of it?"
"Yes."
"And that big picture gallery into the bargain?"
"Yes."
"That's bein' grasping, for any one family to have so much," was Rupert's conclusion.
"Well, you see," said Lawrence, "we get the good of it, and they have the care."
"I don't see how we get the good of it," said Mrs. Copley. "I suppose if I had one of those golden birds, now, with the eyes of diamonds; or one of those wonderfully chased silver caskets; I should have enough to keep me in comfort the rest of my life. _I_ think things are queer, somehow. One single one of those jewels that lie heaped up there, and I should want for nothing more in this world. And there they lie and nobody has 'em."
"Do you want for anything now, mother dear?" asked Dolly. She was busy at a side table, arranging something in a little frame, and did not look up from her work.
"I should think I did!" was Mrs. Copley's rejoinder. "What don't I want, from breath up?"
"Here you have had one wish fulfilled to-day--you have seen the Green vaults--and now we are going to Venice to fulfil another wish--what would you have?"
"I don't like to think I am going away from here. I like Dresden best of all the places we've been in. And I would like to go through the Green vaults--but why they are called so, I cannot conceive--about once every month. I would _never_ get tired."
"So you would like to settle in Dresden?" said Lawrence. "I don't think it would be safe to let you go through the Green vaults often, Mrs.
Copley; you would certainly be tempted too much for your principles.
Miss Dolly, we had better get her away. When _do_ we go, by the by?"
Instead of answering, Dolly rose up and brought him something to look at; a plain little oval frame of black wood within which was a head in light water colours.
"Mrs. Copley!" exclaimed Lawrence.
"Is it like?"
"Striking! capital. I'm not much of a judge of painting in general, but I know a friend's face when I see it; and this is to the life. To the life! Graceful, too. Where did you get it?"
"I got the paper and the paints at a little shop in--I forget the name of the _strasse;_--and mother was here to my hand. Ecco!"
"You _don't_ mean you did it?" said Lawrence, while the others crowded near to look.
"I used to amuse myself with that kind of thing when I was at school, and I had always a knack at catching likenesses. I am going to try you, Rupert, next."
"Ah, try me!" cried Lawrence. "Will you? and we will stay in Dresden till it is done."
"Suppose I succeed," said Dolly softly,--"will you get me orders?"
"Orders?"
"Yes. To paint likenesses, like this, in miniature. I can take ivory, but I would not waste ivory on this one. I'll do yours on ivory if you like."
"But _orders?_" said Lawrence, dumbfounded.
"Yes," said Dolly, nodding, "orders; and for as high pay as you think I can properly ask. Hush! say nothing to mother"----
"Is that like me?" Mrs. Copley asked, after studying the little picture.
"Capitally like you!" Lawrence cried.
"Then I've changed more'n I thought I had, that's all. I don't think I care about your painting me any more, Dolly, if that's the best you can do."
"Why, Mrs. Copley," said Lawrence, "it's beautiful. Exactly your turn of the head, and the delicate fresh colour in your cheeks. It's perfect!"
"Is it?" said Mrs. Copley in a modified tone. "So that's what you've been fussing about, Dolly, these two days. Well, take Mr. St. Leger next. I want to see what you'll make of him. She won't flatter you,"
the lady went on; "that's one thing you may lay your account with; she won't flatter you. But if we're going away, you won't have much chance; and, seems to me, we had better settle which way we are going."
Lawrence did not take up this hint. He sat gazing at the little miniature, which was in its way very lovely. The colours were lightly laid in, the whole was rather sketchy; but the grace of the delineation was remarkable, and the likeness was perfect; and Dolly had shown a true artist's eye in her choice of position and point of view.
"I did not know you had such a wonderful talent," he remarked.
Dolly made no answer.
"You'll do me next?"
"If you like my conditions."
"I do not understand them," he said, looking up at her.
"I want orders," Dolly said almost in a whisper.
"Orders? To paint things like this? For money? Nonsense, Dolly!"
"As you please, Mr. St. Leger; then I will stay here a while and get work through Frau Wetterhahn. She wants me to paint _her_."