But why do you come into this shadowy room of mine ?" "Why do you make it so shadowy ?" asked he.
"We artists purposely exclude sunshine, and all but a partial light," said Miriam, "because we think it necessary to put ourselves at odds with Nature before trying to imitate her.

That strikes you very strangely, does it not?
But we make very pretty pictures sometimes with our artfully arranged lights and shadows.

Amuse yourself with some of mine, Donatello, and by and by I shall be in the mood to begin the portrait we were talking about." The room had the customary aspect of a painter's studio; one of those delightful spots that hardly seem to belong to the actual world, but rather to be the outward type of a poet's haunted imagination, where there are glimpses, sketches, and half-developed hints of beings and objects grander and more beautiful than we can anywhere find in reality.
The windows were closed with shutters, or deeply curtained, except one, which was partly open to a sunless portion of the sky, admitting only from high upward that partial light which, with its strongly marked contrast of shadow, is the first requisite towards seeing objects pictorially.

Pencil-drawings were pinned against the wall or scattered on the tables.

Unframed canvases turned their backs on the spectator, presenting only a blank to the eye, and churlishly concealing whatever riches of scenery or human beauty Miriam's skill had depicted on the other side.
In the obscurest part of the room Donatello was half startled at perceiving duskily a woman with long dark hair, who threw up her arms with a wild gesture of tragic despair, and appeared to beckon him into the darkness along with her.
"Do not be afraid, Donatello," said Miriam, smiling to see him peering doubtfully into the mysterious dusk.