Momma declared, with an accent of reproach, that she could never have enough.  I noticed, however, that we did not stay in the second room as long as in the first one, and that our progress was steadily accelerating.  Presently the Senator asked us to sit down for a few minutes while he should leave us.

“There’s a picture here Bramley said I was to see without fail,” he explained.  “It’s called ‘Mona Lisa,’ and it’s by an artist by the name of Leonardo da Vinci.  Bramley said it was a very fine painting, but I don’t remember just now whether he said it was what you might call a picture for the family or not.  I’ll just go and ascertain,” said the Senator.  “Judging from some of the specimens here, oil paintings in the Middle Ages weren’t intended to be chromo-lithographed.”

In his absence momma and I discussed French cookery as far as we had experienced it, in detail, with prodigious yawns for which we did not even apologise.  Poppa was gone a remarkably short time and came back radiant.  “I’ve found Mona,” he exclaimed, “and—­she’s all right.  Bramley said it was the most remarkable portrait of a woman in the world—­looking at it, Bramley said, you become insensible to everything—­forget all about your past life and future hopes—­and I guess he’s about right.  Come and see it.”

Momma arose without enthusiasm, and I thought I detected adverse criticism in advance in her expression.

“Here she is,” said the Senator presently.  “Now look at that!  Did you ever see anything more intellectual and cynical, and contemptuous and sweet, all in one!  Lookin’ at you as much as to say, ’Who are you, anyhow, from way back in the State of Illinois—­commercial traveller?  And what do you pretend to know?’”

Momma regarded the portrait for a moment in calm disapprobation.  “I daresay she was very clever,” she said at length, “but if you wish to know my opinion I don’t think much of her.  And before taking us to see another female portrait, Mr. Wick, I should be obliged if you would take the precaution of finding out who she was.”

After which we drove quietly home.

CHAPTER VI.

Poppa decided that we had better go to Versailles by Cook’s four-in-hand.  There were other ways of going, but he thought we might as well take the most distinguished.  He was careful to explain that the mere grandeur of this method of transportation had no weight with him; he was compelled to submit to the ostentation of it for another purpose which he had in view.

“I am not a person,” said poppa, “nor is any member of my family, to thrust myself into aristocratic circles in foreign lands; but when an opportunity like this occurs for observing them without prejudice, so to speak, I believe in taking it.”

We went to the starting place early, so as to get good seats, for, as momma said, the whole of the Parisian elite with the President thrown in wouldn’t induce her to ride with her back to the horses.  In that position she would be incapable of observation.