This room also has two of Tintoretto’s simpler canvases—­an Adam and Eve (with an error in it, for they are clothed before the apple is eaten) and a Cain and Abel.  The other pictures are altar-pieces of much sweetness, by Giovanni Bellini, Carpaccio, Basaiti and Cima.  The Carpaccio is the best known by reason of the little charming celestial orchestra at the foot of it, with, in the middle, the adorable mandolinist who has been reproduced as a detail to gladden so many thousands of walls.  All have quiet radiance.

High over the door by which we entered is a masterly aristocratic allegory by Paul Veronese—­Venice with Hercules and Ceres—­notable for the superb drawing and vivacity of the cupid with the wheat sheaf.  I give a reproduction opposite page 102, but the Cupid unfortunately is not distinct enough.

Room III has a Spanish picture by Ribera, interesting so near the Tintorettos, and little else.

I am not sure that I am not happier in Room IV than anywhere else in this gallery, for here are the drawings, and by an odd chance Venice is rich in Leonardos.  She is rich too in Raphaels, but that is less important.  Among the Leonardos, chiefly from his note books, look at No. 217, a child’s leg; No. 257, children; No. 256, a darling little “Virgin adoring”; No. 230, a family group, very charming; No. 270, a smiling woman (but this possibly is by an imitator); No. 233, a dancing figure; No. 231, the head of Christ; and the spirited corner of a cavalry battle.  Some of the Raphaels are exquisite, notably No. 23, a Madonna adoring; No. 32, a baby; No. 89, a mother and child; and No. 50, a flying angel.

In Room V are many pictures, few of which are good enough.  It belongs to the school of Giovanni Bellini and is conspicuous for the elimination of character.  Vacuous bland countenances, indicative merely of pious mildness, surround you, reaching perhaps their highest point of meek ineffectually in Bissolo.

The next room has nothing but dingy northern pictures in a bad light, of which I like best No. 201, a small early unknown French portrait, and No. 198, an old lady, by Mor.

Sala VII is Venetian again, the best picture being Romanino’s “Deposition,” No. 737.  An unknown treatment of Christ in the house of Martha and Mary, No. 152, is quaint and interesting.  Mary is very comely, with long fair hair.  Martha, not sufficiently resentful, lays the table.

In Room VIII we again go north and again are among pictures that must be cleaned if we are to see them.

And then we come to Room IX and some masterpieces.  The largest picture here is Paul Veronese’s famous work, “Jesus in the House of Levi,” of which I give a reproduction opposite page 176.  Veronese is not a great favourite of mine; but there is a blandness and aristocratic ease and mastery here that are irresistible.  As an illustration of scripture it is of course absurd; but in Venice (whose Doges, as we have seen, had so little humour that they could commission pictures in which they were represented on intimate terms with the Holy Family) one is accustomed to that.  As a fine massive arrangement of men, architecture, and colour, it is superb.