"Here," continued he, "you have strayed from your subject. Your Magdalen is not the penitent sinner, she is more like a graceful child, such as Guido might have created. This charming face breathes with the magic of inspiration, and I am much mistaken if the original of this Magdalen is not be to found in Rome. Confess, Antonio, that you are in love!"
The young man lowered his eyes, and answered hesitatingly—"Nothing then escapes from your observation! You have surprised my secret, but do not condemn me! Yes, I like that picture above all, and until to-day I have carefully kept it from sight."
"What!" exclaimed Salvator, "have none of our painters seen that canvas?"
"I swear it to you!"
"In that case, you will soon be revenged on the rivals who wish to discourage you. Will you immediately carry that picture to my house, and leave the rest to me?"
"I will do so, master, and you shall afterwards listen to the story of my love, and you will give me advice and assistance?"
"Now and always," said Salvator. And taking leave of Antonio, he added: "Listen, young man: when you told me that you were a painter, I remember with what emotion I found that you resembled Sanzio. I thought that I saw another of those young fools who copy the costume, the fashions, the beard and the hair of an illustrious master, and who make themselves imitators of a talent that they can never possess. But now, I repeat to you, I have seen in your painting a spark of the sacred fire which animated the works of Raphael.
On hearing these words from the master, the artist's eyes sparkled. The phantom of glory appeared to him in the future, followed and surrounded by an endless retinue of illusions.—Raphael Sanzio!—The echo of this divine name resounded in his ear, like the voice of his good genius, and the protection of Salvator was about to make real the wishes of his whole life.
