leonardo da vinci the last supper

leonardo da vinci the last supper
I had coasted along the lower wall of the orchard- turned its
angle: there was a gate just there, opening into the meadow, between
two stone pillars crowned by stone balls. From behind one pillar I
could peep round quietly at the full front of the mansion. I
advanced my head with precaution, desirous to ascertain if any bedroom
window-blinds were yet drawn up: battlements, windows, long front- all
from this sheltered station were at my command.
The crows sailing overhead perhaps watched me while I took this
survey. I wonder what they thought. They must have considered I was
very careful and timid at first, and that gradually I grew very bold
and reckless. A peep, and then a long stare; and then a departure from
my niche and a straying out into the meadow; and a sudden stop full in
leonardo da vinci the last supper
front of the great mansion, and a protracted, hardy gaze towards it.
'What affectation of diffidence was this at first?' they might have
demanded; 'what stupid regardlessness now?'
Hear an illustration, reader.
A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to
catch a glimpse of her fair face without waking her. He steals
softly over the grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses- fancying
she has stirred: he withdraws; not for worlds would he be seen. All is
still: he again advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on leonardo da vinci the last supper