At first, contrasting them with
those, you may have thought that there was something in them mean or
abject even, for the abstract lines of the face have little nobleness,
and the colour is wan. For with Botticelli she too, though she holds
in her hands the "Desire of all nations", is one of those who are
neither for Jehovah nor for His enemies; and her choice is on her face.
The white light on it is cast up hard and cheerless from below, as
when snow lies upon the ground, and the children look up with surprise
at the strange whiteness of the ceiling. Her trouble is in the very
caress of the mysterious child, whose gaze is always far from her, and
who has already that sweet look of devotion which men have never been
able altogether to love, and which still makes the born saint an object
almost of suspicion to his earthly brethren. Once, indeed, he guides
her hand to transcribe in a book the words of her exaltation, the
_Ave_, and the _Magnificat_, and the _Gaude Maria_, and the young
angels, glad to rouse her for a moment from her dejection, are eager
to hold the inkhorn and to support the book.
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