My scanty purse was
exhausted, and for the first time in my life I experienced the sordid
distress of penury.
I had never known the want of money, and had never
adverted to the possibility of such an evil. I was ignorant of the
world and all its ways; and when first the idea of destitution came
over my mind its effect was withering. I was wandering pensively
through the streets which no longer delighted my eyes, when chance led
my stops into the magnificent church of the Annunciata.
A celebrated painter of the day was at that moment superintending the
placing of one of his pictures over an altar. The proficiency which I
had acquired in his art during my residence in the convent had made me
an enthusiastic amateur. I was struck, at the first glance, with the
painting. It was the face of a Madonna. So innocent, so lovely, such a
divine expression of maternal tenderness! I lost for the moment all
recollection of myself in the enthusiasm of my art. I clasped my hands
together, and uttered an ejaculation of delight. The painter perceived
my emotion. He was flattered and gratified by it. My air and manner
pleased him, and he accosted me. I felt too much the want of friendship
to repel the advances of a stranger, and there was something in this
one so benevolent and winning that in a moment he gained my confidence.
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