Turner, whose Nature (Mr. Turner's) comes to a full stop as soon
as Mr. Turner sees no further occasion for her, instead of melting
by fine expanse and exquisite gradation into genuine distance, as
Nature does in Claude and in Nature. To reverse the picture:
standing at the door, you looked across forty feet of black, and
the little corner seemed on fire, and the fair heads about the
candle shone like the heads of St. Cecilias and Madonnas in an
antique stained-glass window. At last Laure [Laure Aglae Rose de
Beaurepaire,--would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?]
observed the door open, and another candle glowed upon Jacintha's
comely peasant-face in the doorway; she dived into the shadow, and
emerged into light again close to the table, with napkins on her
arm."
The book abounds, as indeed all its companions do, in quaint passages,
comical turns of a word, shrewd sayings,--of which a handful:--
'"Now you know,' said Dard, 'if I am to do this little job to-day,
I must start.'
"'Who keeps you?' was the reply.
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