DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0104
88
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
grander; a rich flush came over her face; and her eyes
filled with tears.
“ I do not feel this,” said she, “ to he the work of man,
but of nature. The arched roof produces upon me the
same thrill as the sky itself!”
Then we walked through the light and shadow of the
English Garden—and I pointed out to her those particular
spots that had always reminded me of her landscapes;
and across the timber-field and the bridge over the mill-
stream, and along the side of the rashing water, till we
came to the grey, wooden door opening into the studio-
field, and so along the narrow path between the thick grass
and flowers, in the pleasant sunshine across the field. But
I was obliged to hold Justina's hand in mine, else nothing
could have persuaded me that this was not one of my many
dreams. We passed through the bushes; we stood under
the Hue; we opened the heavy grey door: we were in the
little room. The clock ticked as loudly as usual; there
stood the two sister easels, and a sister painting-blouse
hung on each: the casts, the books, the green jug with
flowers, all looked so familiar, that to set to work at once
and fancy that I had only dreamed of Justina, seemed the
most natural thing. But there she really stood in the
body !
And having now seen what we were beginning, and
having taken into her memory all the features of the
beloved little room, so that she could picture our lives
when she should have again vanished, we went into the
other studio.
Thoroughly did she enter into the spirit of Kaulbaches
works; she is worthy to understand them. She thinks,
with me, that for intellect, and dramatic power and poetry,
he is superior to any living artist.
We three, as it happened, had the studio all to ourselves;
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
grander; a rich flush came over her face; and her eyes
filled with tears.
“ I do not feel this,” said she, “ to he the work of man,
but of nature. The arched roof produces upon me the
same thrill as the sky itself!”
Then we walked through the light and shadow of the
English Garden—and I pointed out to her those particular
spots that had always reminded me of her landscapes;
and across the timber-field and the bridge over the mill-
stream, and along the side of the rashing water, till we
came to the grey, wooden door opening into the studio-
field, and so along the narrow path between the thick grass
and flowers, in the pleasant sunshine across the field. But
I was obliged to hold Justina's hand in mine, else nothing
could have persuaded me that this was not one of my many
dreams. We passed through the bushes; we stood under
the Hue; we opened the heavy grey door: we were in the
little room. The clock ticked as loudly as usual; there
stood the two sister easels, and a sister painting-blouse
hung on each: the casts, the books, the green jug with
flowers, all looked so familiar, that to set to work at once
and fancy that I had only dreamed of Justina, seemed the
most natural thing. But there she really stood in the
body !
And having now seen what we were beginning, and
having taken into her memory all the features of the
beloved little room, so that she could picture our lives
when she should have again vanished, we went into the
other studio.
Thoroughly did she enter into the spirit of Kaulbaches
works; she is worthy to understand them. She thinks,
with me, that for intellect, and dramatic power and poetry,
he is superior to any living artist.
We three, as it happened, had the studio all to ourselves;