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the curly locks of a full-bottomed wig rather than
expanding masses of soft vapor. And he had not
been able to reproduce the godly travellers as they
had appealed to his artistic fancy, but he had clothed
them after the manner of men, in long red capes
and bishop’s mitres, or in black gowns and stiff
ruffs. He had given them big heads and little bodies
and supplied them with handkerchiefs and prayer-books.
Latin sentences flew out of their mouths,
and for those whom he considered holiest he had
placed solid, wooden chairs on the clouds, so that
they might be carried, sitting comfortably, into
eternity.
Still, every one knew, of course, that saints and
angels had never shown themselves to the poor
artist, and so they were not greatly surprised that
he had not made them celestially beautiful.
Nevertheless the good master’s pious painting
had appeared to many exceedingly beautiful and
had roused much godly emotion. It might surely
have been worthy to be seen by our eyes too.
But during the year when the cavaliers were
masters of Ekeby, Count Dohna had had the whole
church whitewashed. The painting on the ceiling
was hidden, and all the plaster casts of the saints
were taken away.
Oh, those plaster saints!
It were better for me if human ills would cause
me as much sorrow as I have felt over their
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