"That's the new Del Sarto," said the girl, who was reading from a small
blue book. "See, daddy?"
Then the man turned and looked at her, fell back a step, came forward
again, passed a hand across his mouth and gasped. "What is it?" asked
the girl.
He did not answer at once, then: "The night you were born----" he said.
"I'm certain.... It's--it's Del Sarto too! And the poor empty arms.
Just how she looked, and I closed the door on her."
"Daddy, what are you saying?" There was a frightened tone in the girl's
voice.
"It's all right, dear, don't mind me. I must find the keeper of the
gallery. Poor little lady! Run back home, tell your mother I may be
late."
"But, daddy----"
"There are more things in heaven and earth," he began, but did not
finish. It seemed as though the Madonna's eyes were pleading to him,
and it seemed as if he could still hear her say, "Help me find him,
please!"
He told his story to the Committee of the National Gallery and, to do
them credit, it was received with the utmost courtesy.
They did not require him to leave them while their decision was made.
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