"You two go along. You will get on without me."
Isabel took me directly to the suite which was decorated by Pinturicchio
for Alexander VI. We looked at the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Magi,
and the Resurrection. Somehow I was more moved by these paintings than
by anything I had yet seen in Rome. The soul of this painter took
possession of me. Then recalling what Isabel had said I asked her:
"Where is the face, Isabel, you wished to show me?" "There," she said.
"Turn around." I did and saw a bronze bust on a pedestal. "That, you
mean?" Isabel nodded. I walked closer to it. It was Pinturicchio.
A deeper emotion than I had ever before felt before a work of art took
possession of me. Such wisdom, benignity, genius! What a soul belonged
to this man! I looked about to see if we were watched by guards. As we
were alone I put up my hands to caress this face, moved by some unknown
impulse. Touching the silken surface of the bronze my whole imaginative
power seemed to awake; my life spread out before me. I know not what it
was; memories of so many things; not least of all Isabel's presence
understanding what I felt. My eyes blinded; my shoulders shook a little.
Isabel came to me and gently put her hand on my arm. We walked away.
"Who was Pinturicchio?" I asked of Isabel. And she told me. I took a
guide-book out of my pocket and began to read.
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