按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
I was weary and impatient。
〃Get away from me；〃 I said。 〃I'll destroy you both if you don't。〃
A young male； a young female； each taken in youth and both trembling；
they would not retreat。 At last the male spoke for them； his courage tremulous but real。
〃Don't you harm Botticelli！〃 he declared。 〃Don't you hurt him！ Take the dregs； yes； you're wele； but not Botticelli； never Botticelli。〃
Sadly I laughed。 My head fell back and very softly I laughed and laughed。
〃I won't do it；〃 I said。 〃I love him as much as you do。 Now get away from me。 Or believe me； there will be no more nights for either one of you。 GO。〃
Returning to the vault in the mountains； I wept for Botticelli。
I closed my eyes； and I entered the garden where Flora dropped her tender roses to the carpet of grass and flowers。 I reached out to touch the hair of one of the young Graces。
〃Pandora；〃 I whispered。 〃Pandora； it's our garden。 They were all beautiful like you。〃
17
IN THE WEEKS that followed； I filled the shrine in the Alps with many new riches。 I bought new golden lamps； and censers。 I bought fine carpets from the markets in Venice； and golden silks from China as well。 From the seamstresses of Florence I
missioned new garments for rny Immortal Parents； and then carefully dressed them； relieving them of rags which should have been burnt long ago。
All the while I spoke to them in a consoling voice of the miracles I had seen in the changing world。
I laid before them fine printed books as I explained the ingenious invention of the printing press。 And I hung over the doors to the shrine a new Flemish tapestry； also bought in Florence which I described to them in detail； so they might choose to look with their seemingly blind eyes。
Then I went to die city of Florence and gathering up all the pigment
and oil and other materials which my servant had procured for me； I brought it to the mountain shrine； and I proceeded to paint the walls in the new style。
I did not seek now to imitate Botticelli。 But I did return to the old motif of the garden which I had so loved centuries ago； and I soon found myself rendering my Venus； my Graces； my Flora； and infusing into the work all the details of life which only a blood drinker can behold。
Where Botticelli had painted the dark grass rich with varied flowers；
I revealed the small insectile creatures inevitably concealed there； and then the most flamboyant and beautiful of creatures； the butterflies
and the varicolored moths。 Indeed my style ran to frightening detail in every respect； and soon an intoxicating and magic forest surrounded the Mother and Father； the egg tempera lending a gleam to the whole which I had never achieved in the past。
When I studied it； I became ever so slightly dizzy； thinking of Botticelli's
garden； indeed； thinking even of the garden I had dreamt of in old Rome； of the garden I had painted…and soon I had to shake myself and collect myself because I did not know where I was。
The Royal Parents seemed more solid and remote than ever。 All trace of the Great Burning was now gone from them in that their skin was purely white。
It had been so long since they had moved that I began to wonder if I had dreamt those things which had happened…if I had imagined the sacrifice of Eudoxia…but now my mind was very much intent upon escaping the shrine for long periods of time。
My last gift to the Divine Parents…after all my painting was done； and Akasha and Enkil were decked out with all new jewels…was a long bank of one hundred beeswax candles which I lighted for them all at once with the power of my mind。
Of course I saw no change in the eyes of the King and Queen。 Nevertheless； it gave me great pleasure to offer this to them； and I spent my last hours with them； letting the candles burn down as I told them in a soft voice of all the wonders of the cities of Florence and Venice which I had e to love。
I vowed that every time I came to them I would light the one hundred candles。 It would be a small proof of my undying love。
What caused me to do such a thing？ I have no true idea。 But after that I kept a great supply of candles always in the shrine； I stored them behind die two figures； and after the offering； I would replenish the bronze holder and take away all melted wax。
When all this had been done； I returned to Florence and to Venice； and to the rich high…walled little city of Siena； to study paintings of all sorts。
Indeed； I wandered through palaces and churches throughout Italy； quite drunken on what I beheld。
As I have described； a great fusion had taken place between Christian themes and ancient pagan style； which was developing everywhere。 And though I still perceived Botticelli to be die Master； I was taken aback by the plasticity and wonder of much of what I saw。
The voices in die taverns and in the wine shops told me I ought to go North to see paintings as well。
Now this was news to me； for North had always meant the land of the less civilized； but so great was my hunger for the new styles that I did as I was told。
I found throughout all of northern Europe an intense and plex civilization which I had surely underestimated； most particularly I think in France。 There were great cities in existence and Royal Courts which supported painting。 There was much for me to study。
But I did not love the art which I saw。
I respected the works of Jan van Eyck； and Rogier van der Weyden； of Hugo van der Goes； and of Hieronymus Bosch and many other nameless masters whom I beheld； but their work did not delight me as did the work of the Italian painters。 The Northern world was not as lyrical。 It was not as sweet。 It still bore the grotesque stamp of the work of purely religious art。
So I soon returned to the cities of Italy where I was richly rewarded for my wanderings with no end in sight。
I soon learnt that Botticelli had studied with a great master； Filippo Lippi； and that this one's son； Filippino Lippi； was working with Botticelli right now。 Other painters whom I loved included Gozzoli and Signorelli； and Piero della Francesca and beyond that so many that I do not want to mention their names。
But all during my study of painting； my little travels； my long nights of adoring attention to this or that wall； or this or that altarpiece； I did not let myself dream of bringing Botticelli to me； and I never lingered long near any place where he was。
I knew that he prospered。 I knew that he painted。 And that was quite enough for me。
But an idea had e to brew in me…an idea as strong as the
earlier dream of seducing Botticelli had been。
What if I were to reenter the world again； and to live in it as a painter？ Oh； not a working painter who took missions； that would be nonsense； but an eccentric gentleman who chose to paint for his own pleasure； admitting mortals to his house to dine at his table and drink his wine。
Had I not done so in a bumbling way in the ancient nights before the first sack of Rome？ Yes； I had painted my own walls with crude； hasty images； and I had l