arrived before his picture the unknown shook his head doubtfully, and passed disdainfully on. Vexed, in spite of his natural modesty, by this kind of depreciation, Berthold went and placed himself before this person, whom he looked upon as an adversary, and said to him, in a tone which showed plainly his ill humor,
"Would you have the kindness, sir, to point out what you find that shocks you in this composition, so that by the assistance of your opinion I may be able to correct it?"
The unknown fixed a penetrating glance upon Berthold, and contented himself with replying:
"Young man, there was in you the material for a great artist!"
These words froze the poor pupil of Hackert; he could not find words to reply, and remained for a long time nailed to the spot. Master Hackert found him still bewildered at this speech. But when Berthold had described the person to him:
"Ah, good!" exclaimed the painter, "is that all that grieves thee? Console thyself, quickly; for the man who has just spoken to thee is an old grumbler that we are accustomed to seeing periodically strolling about. He is a Greek, born at Malta; he is as rich as he is singular, and understands himself passably well in painting; but the works that he has produced himself, bear the stamp of such singularity, that it can only be attributed to his mania for putting forth at all times the most exaggerated paradoxes. That is the deplorable system which has rendered both his judgment and his taste false. But I care, indeed, as little for his blame as his praise. My reputation is too old to meet with a check from his caprice."
Berthold soon forgot the kind of warning of the Maltese; he set himself to work with renewed vigor; and to double the success, which his great landscape had obtained, he resolved to paint its companion. Hackert chose for a subject, one of the finest views in Naples, illumined by the rising sun,
