anner.bloodandgold(v2)-第59部分

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n　dismissing　the　many　teachers　and　tutors；　I　presided　over　a　good　banquet　with　my　children　where　all　were　delighted　to　have　the　rich　food　of　princes；　as　music　played。
　　　Then　in　a　mild　manner　I　questioned　all　my　apprentices　as　to　what　they　had　learnt　that　day。　Our　conversations　were　long；　plex；　and　full　of　wonderful　revelations。　I　could　easily　surmise　which　teacher　had　been　successful；　and　which　had　not　wrought　the　effects　I　desired。
　　　As　for　the　boys　themselves；　I　soon　saw　which　of　the　boys　possessed　the　greater　talent；　who　should　be　sent　off　to　the　University　of　Padua；　and　who　should　be　schooled　as　a　goldsmith　or　a　painter。　Of　failures　we　had　none。
　　　You　understand；　this　was　a　transcendent　enterprise。　To　repeat；　I　had　chosen　all　of　these　boys　by　means　of　the　Mind　Gift；　and　what　I　offered　them　in　these　months；　which　soon　stretched　to　years；　was　something　they　would　never　have　had　if　I　had　riot　intervened。
　　　I　had　bee　a　magician　for　them；　aiding　them　to　realize　acplishments　of　which　they　hadn't　ever｝　dreamt。
　　　And　there　was　no　doubt　that　I　found　immense　satisfaction　in　this　achievement；　for　I　was　a　teacher　of　these　creatures；　just　as　I　had　long　ago　wanted　to　be　the　teacher　of　Avicus　and　Zenobia；　and　during　all　this　time　I　thought　of　Avicus　and　Zenobia。　I　could　not　help　but　think　of　them　and　wonder　what　had　bee　of　them。
　　　Had　they　survived？
　　　I　could　not　know。
　　　But　I　knew　this　about　myself：　I　had　loved　both　Zenobia　and　Avicus　because　they　allowed　me　to　be　their　teacher。　And　I　had　fought　with　Pandora　because　she　would　not。　She　was　far　too　finely　educated　and　clever　to　be　anything　but　a　fierce　verbal　and　philosophical　opponent　and　I　had　left　her；　stupidly；　on　that　account。
　　　But　no　amount　of　such　self…knowledge　caused　me　to　not　long　for　my　lost　Zenobia　and　for　Avicus；　and　to　wonder　what　paths　they'd　taken　through　the　world。　Zenobia's　beauty　had　struck　a　deeper　note　in　me　than　the　beauty　of　Avicus；　and　I　could　not　relinquish　the　simple　recollection　of　the　softness　of　Zenobia's　hair。
　　　Sometimes；　when　I　was　alone　in　my　bedroom　in　Venice；　when　I　sat　at　my　desk　watching　the　curtains　blow　out　from　the　windows；　I　thought　of　Zenobia's　hair。　I　thought　of　it　lying　on　the　mosaic　floor　in　Constantinople；　after　she　had　cut　all　of　it　so　that　she　might　travel　the　streets　as　a　boy。　I　wanted　to　reach　back　over　a　thousand　years　and　gather　it　up　in　my　hands。
　　　AS　for　my　own　blond　hair；　I　could　wear　it　long　now　for　this　was　the　style　of　the　period；　and　I　rather　enjoyed　it；　brushing　it　clean　without　resentment；　and　going　out　to　walk　in　the　piazza　while　the　sky　was　still　purple　knowing　people　were　looking　at　me；　wondering　just　what　sort　of　man　I　was。
　　　As　for　my　painting；　I　went　about　it　using　a　few　wooden　panels　with　only　a　handful　of　apprentices　in　my　studio；　locked　off　from　the　world。　I　created　several　successful　religious　pictures…all　of　the　Virgin　Mary　and　the　Angel　Gabriel　appearing　to　her；　because　this　theme…The　Annunciation…appealed　to　me。　And　I　was　rather　amazed　at　how　well　I　could　imitate　the　style　of　the　times：
　　　Then　I　set　upon　a　major　undertaking　which　would　be　a　true　test　of　my　immortal　skill　and　wits。
　　　
　　　
　　　18
　　　
　　　LET　ME　EXPLAIN　what　this　undertaking　was　to　be：　There　was　a　chapel　in　Florence　that　existed　within　a　Medici　palazzo；　and　on　the　walls　of　this　chapel　was　a　great　painting　by　a　painter　named　Gozzoli　of　the　Procession　of　the　Magi…the　three　wise　men　of　Scripture…ing　to　visit　the　Christ　Child　with　their　precious　gifts。
　　　Now　it　was　a　marvelous　painting；　full　of　rampant　detail。　And　it　was　worldly　in　the　extreme；　in　that　the　Magi　themselves　were　clothed　as　wealthy　Florentine　citizens　and　there　followed　behind　them　a　huge　gathering　of　similarly　clothed　men　and　churchmen　so　that　the　whole　was　a　tribute　to　the　Christ　Child　and　to　the　times　in　which　the　painting　had　been　done。
　　　This　painting　covered　the　walls　of　this　chapel；　along　with　the　walls　of　the　recess　for　the　place　where　its　altar　stood。　And　the　chapel　itself　was　quite　small。
　　　Now　I　was　taken　with　the　painting　for　many　reasons。　I　had　not　fallen　deeply　in　love　with　Gozzoli　as　I　had　with　Botticelli；　but　greatly　admired　him；　and　the　details　of　this　painting　were　fantastic　in　the　extreme。
　　　Not　only　was　the　Procession　itself　enormous；　if　not　actually　never　ending；　but　the　landscape　behind　it　was　wondrous；　filled　with　towns　and　mountains；　with　men　hunting　and　animals　running；　with　beautifully　realized　castles　and　delicately　shaped　trees。
　　　Well；　choosing　in　my　palazzo　one　of　the　largest　rooms；　I　set　out　to　duplicate　this　painting　in　the　flat　mode　on　one　wall。　What　this　meant　was　that　I　had　to　travel　back　and　forth　between　Florence　and　Venice；　memorizing　parts　of　this　painting；　and　then　render　it　with　all　my　supernatural　skill。
　　　To　a　very　large　part　I　succeeded　in　my　task。
　　　I　〃stole〃　the　Procession　of　the　Magi…this　fabulous　depiction　of　a　procession　so　important　to　the　Christians　and　especially　to　the　Florentines　and　I　laid　it　out　in　vivid　and　exact　color　on　my　wall。
　　　There　was　nothing　original　to　it。　But　I　had　passed　a　test　which　I　had　set　for　myself；　and　as　no　one　was　to　be　admitted　to　this　chamber；　I　did　not　fancy　that　I　had　truly　robbed　Gozzoli　of　anything　he　possessed。　Indeed　if　any　mortal　had　found　his　way　into　this　chamber　which　I　kept　locked；　I　would　have　explained　that　the　original　of　this　painting　was　done　by　Gozzoli；　and　indeed　when　the　time　came　for　me　to　show　it　to　my　apprentices；　for　the　lessons　it　contained；　I　did　so　explain。
　　　But　let　me　return　for　a　moment　to　the　subject　of　this　stolen　work　of　art。　Why　did　it　appeal　to　me？　What　in　it　made　my　soul　sing？　I　don't　know。　Except　that　it　had　to　do　with　the　three　kings　giving　gifts；　and　I　fancied　that　I　was　giving　gifts　to　the　children　who　lived　in　my　house。　But　I'm　not　sure　if　that　is　why　I　chose　the　painting　for　my　first　excursion　into　true　work　with　the　brush。　I'm　not　sure　at　all。
　　　Perhaps　it　was　only　that　all　the　details　of　the　work　were　so　fascinating。
　　　　　One　could　fall　in　love　with　the　horses　in　the　Procession。　Or　with　the　faces　of　the　young　men。　I　shall　now　leave　the　subject　as　puzzled　about　it　as　I　tell　my　story；　as　I　was　then。
　　　Immediately　after　confirming　my　success　with　the　copy；　I　opened　a　spacious　painting　studio　in　the　palazzo　and　began　to　work　on　large　panels　late　at　night　while　the　boys　slept。　I　did　not　really　need　their　help　and　I　did　not　want　them　to　see　the　speed　or　the　determination　with　which　I　worked。
　　　My　first　ambitious　painting　was　dramatic　and　strange。　I　painted　a　gathering　of　my　apprentices　in　full　fancy　dress　listening　to　an　old　Roman　philosopher　who　wore　only　his　long　tunic　and　cloak　and　sandals；　and　this　against　a　backdrop　of　the　ruins　of　Rome。　It　was　full　of　vivid　color　and　my　boys　were　well　rendered；　I　give　myself　that。　But　I　didn't　know　if　it　was　any　good。　And　I　didn't　know　if　it　would　horrify。
　　　I　left　the　door　open　to　the　studio　in　the　hope　that　the　teachers　might　wander　in　there　by　day。
　　　As　it　turned　out　they　were　far　too　timid　to　do　it。
　　　I　proceeded　to　create　another　painting；　and　this　time　I　chose　the　Crucifixion…an　approved　theme　for　any　artist…and　I　rendered　it　with　tender　care…and　once　again　I　used　the　backdrop　of　the　ruins　of　Rome。　Was　it　sacrilege？　I　couldn't　guess。　Once　again；　I　was　sure　of　my　colors。　　
　　　
　　　Indeed；　this　time　I　was　sure　of　my　proportions；　and　of　the　sympathetic　expression　on　Christ's　face。　But　was　the　position　itself　somehow　something　that　should　not　be？
　　　How　was　I　to　know？　I　had　all　this　knowledge；　all　this　seeming　power。　Yet　I　didn't　know。　Was　I　creating　something　blasphemous　and　monstrous？
　　　I　returned　to　the　subject　of　the　Magi。　I　knew　the　conventions。　Three　kings；　the　stable；　Mary；　Joseph；　the　Infant；　Jesus；　and　this　time　I　did　them　freely；　imputing　to　Mary　the　beauty　of　Zenobia；　and　glorying　in　the　colors　as　before。
　　　Soon　my　giant　workroom　was　full　of　paintings。　Some　were　correctly　hung。　Others　were　simply　propped　against　the　wall。
　　　Then　one　night；　at　supper　to　which　I'd　invited　the　boys'　more　refined　instructors；　one　of　them；　the　Greek　teacher；　happened　to　mention　that　he　had　seen　into　my　workshop　through　an　open　door。
　　　〃Oh；　please；　tell　me；〃　I　said；　〃what　did　you　think　of　my　paintings？〃
　　　〃Most　remarkable！〃　he　said　frankly。　〃I've　never　seen　anything　like　them！　Why；　all　of　the　figures　in　the　painting　of　the　Magi。。。〃　He　broke　off；　afraid。
　　　〃Please　go　on；〃　I　said　instantly。　〃Tell　me。　I　want　to　know。〃
　　　　〃All　of　the　figures　are　looking　out　at　us；　including　Mary；　and　Joseph；　and　the　three　kings。　I　have　never　seen　it　done　in　that　way。〃
　　　〃But　is　it　wrong？〃　I　asked。
　　　〃I　don't　think　so；〃　he　said　quickly。　〃But　who's　to　say？　You　paint　for　yourself；　don't　you？〃
　　　〃Yes；　I　do；〃　I　answered。　〃But　your　opinion　matters　to　me。　I　find　at　moments　I'm　as　fragile　as　glass。〃
　　　We　laughed。　Only　the　older　boys　were　interested　in　this　exchange；　and　I　saw　that　the　very　oldest；　Piero；　had　something　to　say。　He　too　had　seen　the　paintings。　He　had　gone　inside　the　room。
　　　〃Tell　me　everything；　Piero；〃　I　said；　winking　at　him；　and　smiling。　〃e　on。　What　do　you　think？〃
　　　〃The　colors；　Master；　they　were　beautiful！　When　will　it　be　time　for　us　to