begins to recant her heresy in regard to Rubens. Here we find his
largest pieces. Here we find the real originals of several real
originals we saw in English galleries. It seems as though only upon a
picture as large as the side of a parlor could his exuberant genius
find scope fully to lay itself out.
When I met II. at last--after finishing the survey--her cheek was
flushed, and her eye seemed to swim. "Well, H.," said I, "have you
drank deep enough this time?"
"Yes," said she, "I have been _satisfied_, for the first time."
Wednesday, June 8. A day on foot in Paris. Surrendered H. to the care
of our fair hostess. Attempted to hire a boat, at one of the great
bathing establishments, for a pull on the Seine. Why not on the Seine,
as well as on the Thames? But the old Triton demurred. The tide
_marched_ too strong--"_Il marche trop fort._" Onward, then,
along the quays; visiting the curious old book stalls, picture stands,
and flower markets. Lean over the parapet, and gaze upon this modern
Euphrates, rushing between solid walls of masonry through the heart of
another Babylon. The river is the only thing not old.
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