New-York tribune. [volume], March 10, 1918, Page 3, Image 21

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American Artists at the
Metropolitan Museum
An Exhibition in Memory of the Late Albert P. Ryd?
Contemporary Sculpture From Representative
Hands?The Fletcher Collection
By Royal Cortissoz
THE primacy in matters of art which the Metropolitan Museum has de?
veloped in recent years has never Been better illustrated than at the
present moment. Tour new exhibitions there await the visitor, and all
four are of serious interest. In memory of the late Albert P. Ryder a
loan collection of his paintings has been assembled in one of the galleries,
a collection of forty-eight pieces which must represent very nearly his en?
tire life's work. In two spacious rooms on the main floor, near the Park
entrance, a special exhibition of American sculpture has been organized.
Upstairs, in the gallery which was occupied by the Eakins pictures a little'
while ago. the Mr. and Mrs. Isaac D. Fletcher collection of paintings and
miscellaneous objects has been installed. Near by, where the new print
department makes its exhibitions, there is a brilliant group of the etch?
ings and drawings of Rembrandt, arranged in view of the lecture on the!
subject which Mr. Kenyon Cox is to deliver at the Museum on March 24.'
Two paintings, the portraits given long ago by Mr. Marquant!, are also
displayed here.
Taken all together these episodes point in a decisive manner to the
liberality of Mr. Robinson's administration. If people are increasingly
willing to give or lend their treasures to the Metropolitan (of the 23.G75
objects acquired in the last year only 3,628 were purchased) it is undoubt?
edly because the policy now controlling looks all the time, in a broad and
effective way, to the best interests of the community.
THE VISIONS OF A MAN OF GENIUS
In the catalogue of the Ryder pict- I
ores a number of his verses are
printed, and we can sniff the offence
they would give to a certain type of
artist. Ciearly, such a commentator
would tell us, they indicate that he
had in his temperament the taint of 1
literary man. There would be, too, the
further justification for this view of
A PEASANT
From the painting by Bastien-Lepage
the matter --.it he had a passion for
literary subjects, an -i to clinch the
?names? : lamning fact that
he had, in our smart modern ser
technique at all. What ?tudent, ire h
fren: Par:- or ever; fror: the league,
could r. - h .- - .-? : I rn how to
?raw? Are :. - the trees in his land?
scapes ti est things imagini
Be knew - ?thing about Impressionism.
?oi the Inn - tj of nature ?1 E
?sieh Monet and his followers have
taught ".? to ? il te highly, r..
to substitute ?- e I ght of th( poi
light that rever was on sea or land.
Hi? apocalyptic skies ?re flatly incred
iei? :-:; in the or-::r.ary ander
?tandir.g of the word, skies filled with
an Mthentic rue and relieved by accu?
rately modelled cloud forms. Yet
Ryder remains an enchanting artist,
.the very ioible3 at which we have
??ancec playing into his hand3, assist
?ng rather than retarding: the flow of
his inspiration.
He had inspiration?that is the all
important point. Where many painters
infinitely better equipped, technically,
have nothing whatever to say, and con?
sequently bore us to death. Ryder was
so rich in imaginative thought and feel?
ing: that we almost forget his technical
limitations. Pie had personality, the
mysterious magic which in some inde?
finable way communicates to the be?
ide r a sensation of beauty. Perhaps
the most eloquent proof of this lies in
the least obviously imaginative of all
the works here shown, the landscape
called "Weir's Orchard.'' It is a simple
pastoral motive, the sort of thing al?
most any landscape man might have
chosen to treat, and, subjected to the
test of technique, the first impression
it yields is that almost any landscape
man might have made a better job of
it. But what of the atmosphere en?
veloping it and the personal note it
strikes? When Lowell heard Emerson
[ecture in the time of his declension
when vagueness had descended upor
him like a garment, he could not mak?
h -ad nor tail of the discourse; but be
left the place feeling that "something
beautiful had passed that way." Tha
; the conviction with which you tun
rom this landscape. It is a sadly fum
bled affair, but Ryder has passed tha
.y and you are inordinately glad of it
iiave alluded to his skies. Look, fo
..ample, at the marine, "Under
? loud," in which a dark sailboat scud
r a dark sea, beneath a darke
?.ill. As a study of natural phenom
..:. the picture is hopelessly inade
luate, but as a bit of poetic symbolisi
it is so thrilling and so beautiful thi
one would not exchange it for a doze
i i the finest marines Dupr? eve
painted.
How potent is the sway of the arti
, who dreams exquisite dreams ar
paints them with sublime sincerit;
Ryder's handicaps were of a nature
have discouraged most men beyond z
patience. Even in the field of cok
where he was the more favorably c
dowed, he was confined to a rath
n?rrow scale, and he had a tendency
muddy the deep blueish greens, t
tawny reds and the golden yellows wi
which he dealt. At times he seems
have practically lost control of col
as witness the "Macbeth and t
Witches/' in which figures and lar
scapes are withdrawn into an alrni
impenetrable penumbra. Yet fr<
amongst the thousands of Shakes;
nan illustrations we have seen we (
recall not one that ?3 even to be co
pared with this. Indeed, its only ri
as a footnote to the play is that am
ing essay of De Quincey's, "On
Knocking at the Gate, in 'Macbetl
' w,-.h its kindred spiritual insight i
the core of the drama. We can imagine
Ryder's response to the poignant sim?
plicity of the famous stage directions?
"Scene, a blasted heath. Enter three
witches." He is as free himself from
surplusage. We behold his vision as
in a flash between thunder claps; it
goes as swiftly as it comes, and, thanks
to the dense obscurity to which we
have referred, we feel for a moment
as we sometimes feel in life, as if we
have imagined the thing which we had
seen. Drama like this, on canvas, is
surely extraordinary achievement.
There is one supreme merit in Ryder
which inclines us to rank him far above
any of the men with whom he might
be said to have a certain alliance?such
men as Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Blake,
Moreau, Boecklin and Klinger. This is
his prodigious variety. Take the works
of any of the artists we have men?
tioned and you will find running
through them all the "family likeness."
due to persistent cultivation of a def?
inite line of thought. Ryder's imagina?
tion has no fixed haven. He would
pairvt a horse in its stable and then
"The Temple of the Mind." In his
masterpiece, the "Jonah," he seems in
the mood of Michael Angelo, but pres?
ently, in "Siegfried and the Rhine
Maidens," he exchanges the grand style
for the truly operatic. He is lyrical,
if ever a painter was, in his two ver?
sions of "Pagasus," in his "Dancing
Dryads," in "The Lovers," and when he
paints the "Resurrection" it is as if
he had taken Milton, "chief of organic
numbers," as a guide to the sweetest
solemnity of his strain. We might cite
indefinitely the mutations of his
genius, the transition from the homely
charm of such a rustic, theme as is
disclosed in "Mending the Harness," to
the romanticism of his "Forest of Ar?
den," from the pathos of his religious
subjects to the mere sensuous beauty
of his sea pieces. But we prefer to go
hack to the central source of all these
different keys?his wide-reaching imag?
ination, the passion in him. always
leading on to some new adventure
which we can only define as the passior
for beauty. We think for a moment ol
Monticelli, and that gift of his foi
color which carried him sometimes tc
the very borders of fairyland. Rydei
crossed the borders. He got at th'
very heart cf things fairylikc, remote
poetic. Color helped him, but th<
genius of the poet helped him most oi
all.
In the support which the Museum haf
given to American art our sculptors
have not by any means been neglected
They have been represented to a cer?
tain extent in the permanent collec?
tions, especially in the matter of smal
bronzes. But not hitherto, save in th(
case of the Saint-Gaudens exhibition
has their craft received quite th<
recognition which has now been paie
to it. The new tribute is due, we
understand, very largely to the ardor
of Mr. Daniel Chester French, who in
this exhibition realizes, in fact, a dream
entertained for years. It is easy to
understand the enthusiasm with which
he conceived the idea and worked for
it. Roughly speaking, the painters
may be said to have everything their
own way in New York. Sculpture is
brought, into the league and the acad?
emy, it appears occasionally in the
i "one man" show, as in the case of Mr.
? O'Connor's brilliant exhibition this
season, and the dealers do their part;
! but we have had to wait for precisely
; the demonstration that Mr. French has
; promoted at the museum. Made chair
' man of the committee formed among
i the trustees, he has also had the ad
! vantage of Mr. Herbert Adams's asso
| ciation with that body, and of the spe?
cial appointment of Mr, James E.
Eraser and Mr. A. A. Weinman as
? members in un advisory capacity. In
\ other words, the purpose of the niu
: scum has been to have the interests of
American sculpture affirmed asitwere
. from within, leaving it to experienced
! practitioners of the art to assemble
a body of some fourscore examples, to
j place them in the appointed rooms, to
j determine the treatment of the sur?
rounding walls, and in every way to
see that the occasion developed the
right conditions. Mr. French and his
colleagues are to be congratulated on
the result.
Their exhibition might be character?
ized an a condensation of historical
evidance, a tangible summary of the
traits of a school. They have not
attempted too much. The record does
! not throw back too far. In fact, the
I only figure from the old regime is Dr.
\ Brimmer, whose "Falling Gladiator" is
! welcome as marking the point of de?
parture from which our renaissance
?prang. ?The lute J. Q. A. Ward's
"Good Samaritan" has been shrewdly
elected as an illustration of the tran?
sitional period. He well representa the
.-tage at which wo were beginning to
emerge from Eimmer'a ncadernic
I method into a larger freedom, a racier
? naturalism. Mr. French himself, ?n
?"The Angel of Death and the Sculptor"
('one of his earlier works, which re- !
mains one of his best), brings the
chronology a little further forward, as
does Saint-Gaudens, with the "Adams
Monument" and the "Amor Caritas,"
and there arc others present who,
though still in their prime, have some?
thing of the relation of pioneers to
the school of to-day. Their produc?
tions are necessary to the picture and
intrinsically good to see. But it is
above all things "the school of to-day"
I that fills the foreground, the school
matured and the school as it is pro?
gressing through the efforts of the
younger men. The observer who would
wish to know the present worth of
American sculpture may here find out.
It is the problem at large that invites
attention, quite apart from the fact
that so many of the sculptures have
been seen and discussed before and
hence require- little, if any individual,
comment. One looks to broad aspects
of development, to the essential ele?
ments in the subject. From this point
of view one is at the outset a little
disappointed. Originality is the ^reat '
desideratum in the arts. It has always
been rare in sculpture. The tremendous
upheaval of personality in the Italian
Renaissance was a fairly unique oc- j
currence. Since that period no country,
not even,France, where sculpture has
peculiarly flourished, has had anything'
like the same galaxy of talents active at
one ?time. Our own school is still
young. It has developed since Saint
Gaudens, no one possessing Rifts as
salient as his, and of late some of the
youths of brightest promise have fallen
under an unfortunate blight. The
"archaic" movement, if we may thus
loosely designate the current mode
represented here by Mr. Paul Manship
and Mr. Sherry Fry, threatens to dry
up the springs of true plastic art under i
the pressure of a specious artificiality, j
But happily, this movement gives no j
sign that it is to endure. There are j
sounder auguries of the future in the
works of juniors like Mr, James E.
Fraser and Mr. Rudolph Evans. The
latter has mad?, a notable statue in
"The Golden Hour," a conception un?
mistakably derived from Greek sources,
but revealing in its quality the vital j
workmanship in wdiich American sculpt- j
ure must rest if it is to reach a fitting i
goal. Originality, we repeat, is not at
all abundant in this exhibition, but Mr
Fraser and Mr. Evans have it, and what
is more, they bring arrestingly to the
surface the principal merit of the
whole school. I
We have ni ready defined that merit.
It is vital workmanship, the basing of
idea;-; upon an instructed and skilful ,
handling of form. Often at the
Academy or in some of the smaller ex- j
hibltions of sculpture we have been
constrained to visualize the American
school as one devoted entirely to a
facile sort of modelling, an easy pretti
ness, half deft technique and half
Rodinesque fancy. The present collec?
tion tells a different story, emphasizing
more serious characteristics. There are
a surprising number of nudes which
are more than gracious and pleasing,
nudes like Mr. Adams's "Nymph," for
example, winch joins to its idealistic
sentiment a remarkable linear distinc?
tion. Look at Mr. Beach's "Sacred
Fire," at Mr. Barnard's "Woman," at
Mrs. Burroughs's "On the Threshold,"
at Miss Scudder's "Young Diana.". The
delightful thing about them all is their
vivid quality, rooted in fidelity to life
:'nd in thoroughness.
Wo underline the last word because
in the mass of sculpture nowadays
there is so litt.ie knowledge, so little
grasp upon structure. Cleverness is
everywhere surfaces are adroitlv
touched. But too many contemporary,
figures have no bowels-- they are hollow
empty shells. The best service rendered
by this exhibition is the emphasis it
places upon work not improvised, but
modelled with as much care as sensi?
tiveness, as much strength as facility
There are some glorious pieces done
by men long since gone from us, the
late Olin Warner's bust of Alden Weir
;iie last John Donoghue's "Younj
Sophocles," both, we like to believe
'teil remembered by every one interest
? : at all in American art. And to mate!
hem there are things by living me",
dr. Grafly's busts of Paul Bartlett am
Frank Duveneck. Mr. O'Connor's viril
Soldier" for Worcester, the nude b;
Mr. Evans cited above, and Mr. Wein
man's "Descending Night," which i
almost, if not quite, as beguiling see
close at hand in the bronze as'it wa
when it. soared into the air at the Sa
Francisco exhibition, The object of th
show is to make plain the solid achieve
ments in American sculpture, the tin
establishment of high standards (.
technique, the effective play of imag
nation in the embodiment of fine idea!
It is successful in this. The school hr
never before been so creditably illui
trated, so cleverly revealed as one i
which men of ability are thinking gra\
thoughts and expressing them wit
sincere emotion. The bright flan
of originality may visit few of ther
the gesture in modelling which stam]
the rare creative artist may be slow i
making itself felt, but that our sculp
ure has in it the principle of growl
these performances make exhilarating]
manifest.
We have but little space left in whic
to speak of the Fletcher collection. ?
antiquities are of a high order, notably
the Egyptian statuette of a priest of ?
the Ptolemaic period and the Apulian
vases. The ancient glass is also of j
great interest. The paintings form a
curiously mixed yet attractive collec
tion. They range from a few old mas- I
ters, good if not remarkable examples
of Rembrandt, Rubens, Reynolds. Gains?
borough and Constable, through a brill?
iant specimen of David's academic por- j
traiture and a tine group of Barbizon \
pictures to paintings by Raffaelli and ,
Bastien-Lepage. Of the modern works i
the "Woman Guarding Turkeys," by
Millet, ?3 the most important, a thor- j
oughly--characteristic painting. Gothic
and eighteenth century French sculpt- '
ure is represented, there are tapestries.
pieces of old stained glass and other
works of decorative art. After a year j
or so this collection is to be distributed '
through the Museum according to de- |
partments. In the mean time it is very
handsomely displayed, the temporary
concentration bringing out the full
value of an important bequest.
Notes
The late Carroll Beckwith's finished
pictures and studies are to be sold at ;
auction. They will be placed on view i
at the American Art Galleries on March !
15, the sale following on the evenings
of March 20 and 21.
The annual exhibition at the Macbeth i
gallery of thirty paintings by thirty ?
artists has just been opened." It will
last until March 27. The Montross gal?
lery has an exhibition of pictures by :
Anderson, Bellows, Du Bois, Glackens,
Pach, Perrine, Tucker and ethers. It
continues until the end of the month.
Recent paintings by John Sloan may !
be seen at the Kraushaar gallery.!
Monotypes by Gustave Verbeck are at
the Citv Club.
The American Federation of Arts an- !
??ounces that it will hohl its ninth an- i
iiual convention in Detroit. It will last
through two day-, May 23 and 24.
How the Kaiser's
Poisoned News
Weakened Russia
{Issued by the Committee on Public
Information )
ONE OF THF most potent means
by which the morals of the
Russian army and people have
beer, undermined has been by syste?
matic work in propaganda among Rus?
sian prisoners. Bike most other Ger?
man activities, this has been highly or
ganized, and it shows a greater psy?
chological insight than many of the
German methods. This work falls un
'-? der several heads; it is quite as un?
scrupulous and unrelenting as the
measures by which the Germans
crushed the physical powers of their
i risoners.
There is a little illustrated newspaper
I in the Russian language, printed by the
I Germans, "Russki Vestnik," which is
I industriously circulated in all the
i prison camps and barracks and was cir
j culated in the Russian army. The pris
: oner-; read it, since they have nothing
1 else to read, and they fall under its
', spell. The selection and arrangement
of illustrations and the tone of the ac
c impanying verses and short stories
are calculated to produce feelings of
gloom, hopelessness, homesickness and
thoughts of dear ones at home. They
picture the life of the lowly Russian
i people as it is affected by war; it lays
emphasis on the poverty everywhere,
the sick, hungry children, the sobbing
mothers, the war cripple : neglected by
! ail and begging at the crossroads and
j it the street-;. There is never a cheery
I line to be found in this German-made
| Russian literature given to the prison
! e.-s of war. Its tenor is always the
| same; German strength and prosperity;
i Russian weakness in the field and weak
i ness at home.
There is also a system of "letters
! from prisoners'' intended for Russian
| soldiers at the front, the purpose of
I which was to widen the ?rap between
?the soldiers and the Kerensky govern
; ment, to estrange the Russians from
I the Allies, Russia being urged to free
| herself from all engagements, to re
i pudiate all financial obligations, and,
\ finally, to induce the Russian army to
' 'shout tor peace." These letters aim
? to vilify the English and French, in
I the endeavor to kill all desire in the
i Russians to fight on their side, to call
I a halt to the Russian offensive in Ga
! licia, "since Russia does not need any
\ thing from the Centra! Powers" -the
? letters evidently having been written
I at the time of that offensive and
j finally to draw the Russian and Ger
! man people together.
"Russki Vestnik" and other litera
I ture like it accomplished what the Ger
' man armies alone could not accom
? plish. They shattered the Russian
i front, and they, or other devices like
: them, helped weaken the Italians.
The articles and poetry in the "Russ?
ki Vestnik" are full of high sound?
ing appeals to man's highest instincts
peace, brotherhood and the equality
\ of nations. Kerensky is accused of
: militarism. The Russian people want
"peace without victory." An issue of
! this newspaper which has reached gov
1 eminent officials at Washington typi
\ caliy represents the work it does-.
The address of "Russki Vestnik" is
? not to be found in the usual place, but
; at the bottom of the last page appears
? this: "Printing House of Otto Previtz.
Berlin, S. W. 61, Gitschinerstrasse,"
?which makes the origin of the sheet
1 r asonably < lear.
The Cousin of
Madame Moreau
By Frederic Boutet
Translated b\) William L. McPherson
Copyright. 1918, by The Tribune Association
Here is another Boutet story?in Boutet*? best vein. This author has
a singular capacity for grasping an incident or a situation and presenting
it with remarkable succinctness and economy of details. His style also has
the great clutrm of sobriety?of abstinence from mere surface effects.
It is a pleasure to know that the translations of Boutet in this series
have met with genuine appreciation in f/i!.s country. All four of the Bou?
rel stories which appeared last year were placed high o)i the honor roll of
best short stories published in 1917 in American magazines and periodicals,
which Mr. EdwarHJ. O'Brien, the literary editor of "The Boston Tran?
script," issued a few weeks ago. One of them was triple-starred and tlis
other three were double-starred. American writers and critical readers of
short stories will appreciate what that listing means.
SEVEN' or eight " ladies, important
personages in the little city, were
assembled in Mme. Delaporte's
salon when Mme. Mo-eau entered, fol?
lowed by her two daughters, fresh look?
ing young women of eighteen and
twenty years. Mme. Moreau, who could
remember the time, not very long ago,
when she entered this salon with great
humility, enjoyed the grateful sensa
tion, not yet dulled, of beinjr received
with marked consideration and of
seeing the imposing Mme. Delaporte
herself, whose social distinction was ;
unchallenged, manifest a certain eager- I
ness to greet her. This lady, who was
usually the reverse, now seemed full
of animation. .
"Well! well!" she exclaimed, "he is
here. He arrived this morning. And
you didn't tell us."
"Didn't tell you about what? Who
has arrived?"
"Your cousin! Lieutenant'Maximil?
ian Moreau, the famous aviator. He is
coming to be treated at the hot baths
near here. As if yo,u didn't know it,
you sly fox! Have you seen him yet?"
All of Them
Talked Together
"No, I haven't; I assure you I
haven't," protested Mme. Moreau, who
seemed flustered, and whom the ladies
present quickly surrounded, all of '.hem
talking at the same time.
Mme. Delaporte interposed:
"We understand your discretion,
dear friend. But it is a great honor
for our town to have such a hero here,
and we shall all be very proud and
very happy to make his acquaintance.
So when he has rested up a little you
will present him, won't you? Here, at
my house?
"I count on you for that," she whis?
pered in Mme. Moreau's ear, warmly
clasping her hand.
This intimacy with Mme. Delaporte
had something so flattering in it that
? Mme. Moreau was a little intoxicated.
"You may depend on me, dear friend,''
she promised, exhilarated at the
thought of permitting herself such a
familiarity.
Assailed with questions about the
officer, she answered as best she could,
although, from time to time a painful
preoccupation handicapped her in her
talk. When she found herself in the
street once more, with her daughters,
the excitement of her success vanished
in an instant and a grave anxiety
clouded her face.
He Saw His
Wife From Afar
"We will gc by the office and meet
your father," she said.
It was the hour when M. Moreau left
his bureau. He saw from afar his wife
and daughters, and, like an affection?
ate husband and father, hurried to
meet them.
"Walk ahead, girls," said Mme.
Moreau.
She took her husband's arm and told
him what had happened at Mme. Dela?
porte's. Joy froze to distress on his
handsome, gray-bearded face. His eyes,
behind his glasses, dilated with fright.
"What shall we do?" asked the wife,
in an anguished tone.
"1 don't know. It is terrible!"
He was so unnerved that Mmt.
Moreau saw that she must act.
"Come, come, Adolphe, we mus? not
be made fools of. There is only one
'thing to do. We must go and find him.
Yes. we must go there together?and
right away."
"Right away?" groaned M. Moreau.
"Yes. We'll pass by the house and
the children can stay there. You will
get your best gloves and your new hat.
As for me, I am already dressed." she
added, casting a glance at her toilette,
which was of imperial violet.
The Officer
Was Wounded
Lieutenant Maximilian Moreau, his
arm still in a sling, was at the window
when they arrived.
"A lady and a gentleman on im?
portant business," the servant an?
nounced.
"Important and urgent," repeated a
voice from the other side of the door.
"A few minutes of conversation, mon?
sieur. We implore you."
And, evading the servant, a gentle?
man with a gray beard and a lady
towned in violet precipitated them?
selves into the chamber of the aston
xhed officer.
"Monsieur," began the male visitor,
?please pardon this intrusion. I am
going to explain"
"Wait a minute," his companion in?
terrupted. "Let me tell him. Monsieur,
first of all, some indispensable words
about ourselves. We are perfectly re?
spectable people; I assure you. My
husband is the chief of a bureau in the
branch office of a big banking estab
lishment. It ia a confidential position.
i ara the daughter of a public function?
ary. My brother ?3 a professor. I have
two daughters, the elder of whom is
I engaged to the son of a noUtry. So, I
repeat, our family is perfectly respect?
able. No one need blush for us."
"Madame, I do not doubt what you
say, I assure you of that," began tho
officer, somewhat nonplussed. **But
why all these details?"
"They are indispensable, monsieur?
indispensable. You will see why. Our
name is Moreau Monsieur and Madame
Adolphe Moreau."
"Your name is the same as mine."
"Exactly," broke in the husband. "So
you will understand"
"My dear, please let me talk," said
the wife.
"But I don't catch the point at all,"
interjected the officer, whose growing
astonishment was now eomnlicated
with a sense of amusement, which he
tried to conceal.
"Monsieur." continued Mme. Moreau,
with a sombre air, "it is your glory
which is the cause of everything. They
drove' us into it, monsieur. When
your name appeared in the newspapers
they overwhelmed us with questions.
They thought we were related we and
you. And so, in the end, we let them
believe that you were a relative. It
was not premeditated. It came about
of itself. We were caught, in the
whirl of ether people's imagination.
The consideration shown us increased
as your fame spread. They kept ask?
ing us for details, and we gave them
d?tails. We told anecdotes about you.
And we were proud of you, monsieur,
as proud as if you were really our
cousin, as they all believe you are."
He Would Not
Repudiate Them
1 Mme. Moreau paused. Then .she con
! tinued with fervor:
"Now, if you repudiate us, we are
, lost. Yes, monsieur, lost. Consider
our situation in this city my situation
among the people with whom I as?
sociate; with the family of my daugh
ter's fianc?; my husband's situation in
. his bureau. Think of our humiliation
if they learn the truth. We should
tall from a great heignt. We should
be made ridiculous forever."
She stopped again and then mur?
mured timidly:
"If you were willing, it would be only
a little thing to do. Naturally, we do
not ask you yourself to gloss over the
truth. But if sometimes you could
v/alk a little with u< in the park. And
then if you would allow me to intro?
duce some of my friends to you. And
if you would write your name in a few
albums. That would be enough. We
don't want to impose upon your good
nature; that is to be clearly under?
stood."
Breathless with emotion, she lapsed
into silence. M. .Moreau wiped the
perspiration from his temples. The
officer, without saying a word, looked
at them with hin clear and confident
eyes. The adventure seemed more or
less diverting to him. Nut for a sec
: ond had he thought of getting angry.
On the contrary, ho had a feeling of
something like pity for these good
people who in their whole- narrow,
shabby life had had but this one spa?
cious vista?the reflection of his glory,
which they had naively stolen from
him.
"Very well, my cousin; I'll stand by
you," he answered with an Indulgent
smile.
Arlington Galleries
Exhibition of Landscapes
By
Robert H. Nisbet
Until March 21 Inclusive
274 Madison Avenue (40th St.)
s__)
M0NTR0SS GALLERY
SPECIAL F.XIUBITIOS
Anderson, Bellows, Da Boit, GUckens,
Higgins, Knebne, Lever, MicRae,
Manigault, Maurer, Of, Pack,
Perrine, Tucker.
Through March
550 Fifth Avenu? ?above <:.th St.)
Picture Restoration
Old Paintings and Sculpture
1:-'M referenc?? from MuseuniH, Collec?
tor? anil Picture Utalers of Europe.
ODGER ROUST
Studio. ?6 CENTRAL PARK WEST.