I do believe it is now photographed there.

It is a sad face to keep so close to one's heart; only what is so very beautiful can never be quite a pain.

Well; after studying it in this way, I know not how many times, I came home, and have done my best to transfer the image to canvas." "Here it is, then," said Miriam, contemplating Hilda's work with great interest and delight, mixed with the painful sympathy that the picture excited.

"Everywhere we see oil-paintings, crayon sketches, cameos, engravings, lithographs, pretending to be Beatrice, and representing the poor girl with blubbered eyes, a leer of coquetry, a merry look as if she were dancing, a piteous look as if she were beaten, and twenty other modes of fantastic mistake.

But here is Guido's very Beatrice; she that slept in the dungeon, and awoke, betimes, to ascend the scaffold, And now that you have done it, Hilda, can you interpret what the feeling is, that gives this picture such a mysterious force?
For my part, though deeply sensible of its influence, I cannot seize it." "Nor can I, in words," replied her friend.