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14
I WENT TO ROME。 I could settle for nothing less。 What I found there was to sting my heart； but also to astonish me。 It was an enormous and busy city； determined to rise from layers upon layers of ruin； full of merchants and craftsmen hard at work on grand palaces for the Pope and his Cardinals and for other rich men。
The old Forum and Colosseum were still standing； indeed there were many many recognizable ruins of Imperial Rome…including the Arch of Constantine…but blocks of ancient stone were constantly being pilfered for new buildings。 However scholars were everywhere studying these ruins； and many argued for their maintenance as they were。
Indeed the whole thrust of the age was to preserve the remnants of the ancient times in which I'd been born； and indeed to learn from them； and imitate the art and the poetry； and the vigor of this movement surpassed my wildest dreams。
How can I say it more lucidly？ This prosperous era； given over to trade and banking； in which so many thousands wore thick and beautiful clothes of velvet； had fallen in love with the beauty of ancient Rome and Greece！
Never had I thought such a reversal would occur as I had lain in my vault during the weary centuries； and I was at first too exhilarated by all I saw to do much but walk about the muddy streets； accosting mortals with as much graciousness as I could muster； asking them questions about what was going on about them； and what they thought of the times in which they lived。
Of course I spoke the new language； Italian； which had grown up from the old Latin； and I soon became used to it on my ears and on my tongue。 It wasn't such a bad language。 Indeed it was beautiful； though I quickly learnt that scholars were well versed in their Latin and Greek。
Out of a multitude of answers to my questions I also learnt that Florence and Venice were deemed to be far ahead of Rome in their spiritual rebirth； but if the Pope were to have his way that was soon to change。
The Pope was no longer only a Christian ruler。 He had made up his mind that Rome must be a true cultural and artistic capital； and not only was he pleting work upon the new St。 Peter's Basilica but he was working as well upon the Sistine Chapel； a great enterprise within his palatial walls。
Artists had been brought from Florence for some of this painting； and the city was much intrigued as to the merits of the frescoes which had been done。
I spent as much time as I could in the streets and in the taverns listening to gossip of all this； and then I made for the Papal Palace determined to see the Sistine Chapel for myself。
What a fateful night this was for me。
In all the dark centuries since I had left my beloved Zenobia and Avicus； I had had my heart stolen by various mortals and various works of art； but nothing I had experienced could quite prepare me for what I was to see when I entered the Sistine Chapel。
Understand； I do not speak of Michelangelo； so well known to all the world for his work there； for Michelangelo was but a child at this time。 And his works in the Sistine Chapel were yet to e。
No； it was not the work of Michelangelo that I saw on this fateful night。 Put Michelangelo out of your thoughts。
It was the work of someone else。
Getting by the palace guards easily enough； I quickly found myself within the great rectangle of this august chapel； which though not open to the public at large was destined to be used for high ceremonials whenever it should be plete。
And what caught my eye immediately among any number of frescoes was an enormous one filled with brilliantly painted figures； all involving； it seemed； the same dignified elder with golden light streaming from his head as he appeared with three different groupings of those who responded to his mand。
Nothing had prepared me for the naturalism with which the multitudinous figures were painted； the vivid yet dignified expressions on the faces of the people； and the gracefully draped garments with which the beings were clothed。
There was great turbulence among these three exquisitely rendered groups of persons as the white…haired figure with the gold light streaming from his head instructed them or upbraided them or corrected them； his own face quite seemingly stern and calm。
All existed in a harmony such as I could never have imagined； and though their creation alone seemed enough to guarantee that this painting should be a masterpiece there was beyond the figures a marvelous depiction of an extravagant wilderness and an indifferent world。
Two great ships of the present period were anchored in the faraway harbor； and beyond the ships there loomed layers of mountains beneath a rich blue sky； and to the right there stood the very Arch of Constantine which still stood in Rome to this day； finely detailed in gold as if it had never been ruined； and the columns of another Roman building； once splendid； now a fragment standing high and proud； though a dark castle loomed beyond。
Ah； such plexity； such inexplicable binations； such strange matter； and yet every human face so pelling； every hand so exquisitely wrought。
I thought I would go mad just looking at the faces。 I thought I would go mad just looking at the hands。
I wanted nights to memorize this painting。 I wanted at once to listen at the portals of scholars who could tell me what it was about； for I myself couldn't possibly decipher it！ I needed knowledge for this。 And more than anything； its sheer beauty spoke to my soul。
All my gloomy years were gone as if a million candles had been lighted in this chapel。
〃Oh； Pandora； that you could see this！〃 I whispered aloud。 〃Oh； Pandora； if only you knew of this！〃
There were other paintings in the unfinished Sistine Chapel。 I gave them a passing glance until my eyes hit upon two others by this same Master； and these were as magical as the first。
Once again there was a multitude of persons； all with the same divine faces。 Garments were rendered with sculptural depth。 And though I recognized the Christ with his winged angels appearing in more than one place in this exquisite fresco； I could not interpret these paintings any more than I could the first。
It didn't matter finally what these paintings meant。 They filled me utterly。 And in one； there were two maidens rendered so sensitively and yet so sensuously that I was amazed。
The old art of the churches and the monasteries would never have allowed such a thing。 Indeed it had banished such carnality pletely。
Yet here in the Pope's chapel were these damsels； one with her back to us； and the other facing us； a dreamy expression in her eyes。
〃Pandora；〃 I whispered。 〃I have found you here； found you in your youth and in your eternal beauty。 Pandora； you are here on the wall。〃
I turned away from these frescoes。 I paced the floor。 Then I went back to them； studying them with my uplifted hands； careful not to touch them； just moving my hands over them； as if I had to look through my hands as well as through my eyes。
I had to know who this painter was！ I had to see his work。 I had fallen in love w