“Now what Bramley said about the Ufizzi was this,” continued the Senator. “‘You’ll see on those walls,’ he said, ’the best picture show in the world, both for pedigree and quality of goods displayed.  I’d go as far as to say they’re all worth looking at, even those that have been presented to the institution.  But don’t you look at them,’ Bramley said, ‘as a whole.  You keep all your absorbing-power for one apartment,’ he said—­’the Tribune.  You’ll want it.’  Bramley gave me to understand that it wasn’t any use he didn’t profess to be able to describe his sublimer emotions, but when he sat down in the Tribune he had a sort of instinctive idea that he’d got the cream of it—­he didn’t want to go any further.”

We decided, therefore, in spite of such minor attractions as those of Niobe and her daughters, at once to achieve the Tribune, feeling, as poppa said, that it would be most unfortunate to have our admiration all used up before we reached it.  The guide led the way, and it was beguiled with the fascinating experience of the Miss Binghams, who had met Queen Marguerite driving in the Villa Borghese at Rome and had received a bow from her Majesty of which nothing would ever be able to deprive them.  “Of course we drew up to let her pass,” said Miss Nancy, “and were careful not to make ourselves in any way conspicuous, merely standing up in the carriage as an ordinary mark of respect.  And she looked charming, all in pink and white, with a faded old maid of honour that set her off beautifully, didn’t she, Cora?  And such a pretty smile she gave us—­they say she likes the better class of Americans.”

“Oh, we’ve nothing to regret about Rome,” rejoined Cora.  “Even Peter’s toe.  I wouldn’t have kissed it at the time if the guide hadn’t said it was really Jupiter’s.  I was sure our dear vicar wouldn’t mind my kissing Jupiter’s toe.  But now I’m glad I did it in any case.  People always ask you that.”

When we arrived at the little octagonal treasure chamber Mr. Dod and Miss Cora sat down together on one of the less conspicuous sofas, and I saw that Dicky was already warmed to confidence.  Momma at once gave up her soul to the young St. John, having had an engraving of it ever since she was a little girl, and the Senator went solemnly from canvas to canvas on tip-toe with a mind equally open to Job and the Fornarina.  He assured Miss Nancy and me that Bramley was perfectly right in thinking everything of the Tribune, and with reference to the Dancing Fawn, that it was worth a visit to see Michael Angelo’s notion of executing repairs to statuary alone.  He gave the place the benefit of his most serious attention, pulling his beard a good deal before Titian’s Venus (which poppa always did in connection with this goddess, however, entirely apart from the merit of the painting) and obviously making allowances for her of Medici on account of her great age.  At the end of the hour we spent there it had the same effect upon him as upon Colonel