"But one word more to relieve my brain:--if you would
embody the full meaning of the parable, you must not be content that
the mystery is there; you must show in your painting that you feel
it there; you must paint the invisible veil that no hand can lift,
for there it is, and there it ever will be, though Isis herself
raise it from morning to morning."
"How am I to do that?" said Lenorme, not that he did not see what
Malcolm meant, or agree with it: he wanted to make him talk.
"How can I, who never drew a stroke, or painted anything but the
gunnel of a boat, tell you that?" rejoined Malcolm. "It is your
business. You must paint that veil, that mystery in the forehead,
and in the eyes, and in the lips--yes, in the cheeks and the
chin and the eyebrows and everywhere. You must make her say without
saying it, that she knows oh! so much, if only she could make you
understand it!--that she is all there for you, but the all is
infinitely more than you can know. As she stands there now,"
"I must interrupt you," cried Lenorme, "just to say that the picture
is not finished yet."
"And yet I will finish my sentence, if you will allow me," returned
Malcolm. "--As she stands there--the goddess--she looks only
a beautiful young woman, with whom the young man spreading out his
arms to her is very absolutely in love.
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