" His eyes were on a picture between two
windows. "Out of Denmark one rarely sees anything of Skovgaard's.
That Filipinno Lippi is excellent, also. At the Hermitage in St.
Petersburg I tried to get a copy like that"--he nodded at
Rembrandt's picture of himself--"but there was none to be had. Did
you get yours there?"
"Four years ago. I also got that photograph of Houdon's Voltaire
there."
He looked in the direction to which I pointed, and, getting up,
went over to first one picture and then another, and studied them
closely. A bit of bronze, a statuette or two, an altar-piece, a
chalice, a flagon, a paten, a censer, and an ikon held his
attention, one after the other, and again he turned to me.
"These are very interesting. Is it as one of the faithful you
collect?" A smile which strangely lighted his face swept over it.
"Oh no!" I shook my head. "The faithful would find me a most
disturbing person. I ask too many questions." My hand made
movement in the direction of the bookshelves around the four sides
of the room, on the tops of which were oddly assorted little
remembrances of days of travel.
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