There were no trees, no rocks.

There was nothing but the sleeping figure with the shepherd's crook by his side upon the mountain top, all lying bare to the sky and to the eyes that looked from the cloud, and from which all the moonlight of the picture fell.
When Lawrence Newt came into the studio one morning, Arthur, who worked in secret upon his picture and never showed it, asked him if he would like to look at it.

The merchant said yes, and seated himself comfortably in a large chair, while the artist brought the canvas from an inner room and placed it before him.

As he did so, Arthur stepped a little aside, and watched him closely.
Lawrence Newt gazed for a long time and silently at the picture.

As he did so, his face rapidly donned its armor of inscrutability, and Arthur's eyes attacked it in vain.