The next day they visited the Gobelin Tapestries. There was but one word
to express the wonderful work exhibited—and that was “Exquisite.” Some
of these tapestries are “worth a crown.”
“It doesn’t seem possible that anyone could weave such delicate
lace-like patterns with mere threads and human hands,” said Polly.
“And such colorings, too! Did you ever see such green velvety lichen as
seems growing on those old grey monoliths?” added Eleanor.
“See the tiny dash of red that is necessary, given by the pigeon berry
growing in that lichen,” remarked Polly.
The others said nothing, because they were so impressed by the beauty of
the complete picture that the details failed to reach them. Then Mr.
Fabian told the history of the Gobelins.
“In its foundation year there were two hundred and fifty weavers engaged
in weaving these marvellous tapestries. But that number has dwindled,
today, to sixty. And there used to be an annual appropriation of two
hundred thousand francs that today has dwindled, also; to fifty thousand
francs.
“The famous old Gobelins owned by the State, and exhibited at the
Museums and at public buildings in Paris, are today worth fortunes. Few
are owned by the Trade and such as are are the more modern pieces that
date back to Napoleon III.
“Many pieces of rare Gobelins were sold because of royal vicissitudes
previous to 1870, but since then no tapestries have been available to
the public. This enhances the value of any Gobelin that was sold to
assist the Treasury in 1852.
“One of the most famous series ever produced, known as ‘Portières of the
Gods,’ consists of eight pieces, representing the four seasons and the
four elements. Each design is personified by one of the gods or
goddesses of Olympus. This series has been repeated until there are two
hundred and thirty-seven sets that left the looms.
“When one of these portières of the gods appear in a sale there is most
lively bidding for it, and prices soar higher than any other Gobelin
usually brings.
“The ‘Don Quixote’ series of five pieces, is perhaps the most famous of
all Gobelins recently sold. To show the keen appreciation of such
tapestry, the price paid at a sale of such was six hundred thousand
francs.”
As Mr. Fabian concluded, Polly laughingly remarked: “I wonder if Nolla
and I will ever reach that degree in decorating where a customer will
commission us to go and buy such a tapestry.”
“Of course you will! As soon as I marry that title that Ma is hunting up
for me, I’ll give you the order for the whole set,” laughed Dodo.
“Let’s hope we may have to wait forever, then, if the commission depends
on your misery,” retorted Eleanor.
After leaving the Gobelins, Mr. Fabian took his party to some of the old
curio shops in Paris, where one can spend many interesting hours—if one
likes antiques.
That evening Mr. Alexander insisted upon their going, as his guests, to
one of the famous cafés. And as they sat at one of the way-side tables
watching the stream of pleasure-seekers go past, Dodo suddenly drew the
attention of her companions to a man who was strolling by.
“Now there’s what I call a really handsome Frenchman,” whispered she.
“Why, if it isn’t Count Chalmys!” exclaimed Nancy, jumping up to catch
hold of the gentleman’s arm.
“What’s that! Anuther title?” asked Mr. Alexander with a frown.
“Yes, but don’t worry, Pa,” laughed Dodo, encouragingly. “If Ma’s not
about there’s no danger for you and me.”
The others laughed at Mr. Alexander’s evident concern and Dodo’s instant
rejoinder to his question. Then Nancy brought the gentleman over to meet
her friends. He shook hands with Mrs. Fabian and then turned to
acknowledge the introductions.
“This is Miss Polly Brewster and Miss Eleanor Maynard whom I told you
about, when they discovered the gold mine on the mountains in
Colorado—you remember?”
“Ah, to be sure!” responded the Count.
“And Miss Dorothy Alexander from Denver, Mr. Alexander her father, and
my father, Mr. Fabian. This is Count Chalmys, of Northern Italy,
friends.”
Everyone acknowledged the introduction, and the Count seemed over-joyed
to meet so many of “Mees Nancy’s” friends. He sat down with the group
and soon led the conversation. Mr. Alexander sat glowering at him but it
was difficult to read the little man’s thoughts.
The Count seemed more attracted to Polly than to the other girls, but
then he had heard of Rainbow Cliffs and that Gold Mine, thought Dodo. On
the walk to the hotel, he mentioned a famous collector’s sale which
would begin the following day at one of the Auction Galleries.
“Oh, are you interested in antiques, then?” asked Polly, eagerly.
“I like paintings—old masters and such things. I never lose an
opportunity to secure one when it is offered for sale. My palace, near
Venice, is a museum of paintings. You must visit it when you tour
Italy,” responded the Count.
Mr. Fabian now asked: “Is it possible for us to secure an entrance to
this sale, Count?”
“I can easily secure tickets and a catalogue for you, Monsieur Fabian.
Will the young ladies be pleased to attend, also?”
“Oh yes, it is for their interests that I would like to attend, and
explain various objects that might be found in the collection.”
“Then leave it to me, Monsieur. I will arrange everything for their
convenience.”
The Count left the Americans at the hotel door, and said good-night. As
they all walked laughingly through the main lobby, the clerk sent a page
after them with a cablegram. It was for Mr. Alexander and he felt a
tremor of apprehension as he took it.
He turned to the others and said (exactly as he had heard Mr. Fabian do)
“Pardon me, whiles I read what the missus has to say now.” Then he
quickly opened the envelope.
“Well, that settles my vacation!” exclaimed he.
“What’s the matter, Pa?” asked Dodo, anxiously.
“Ma’s gone and got that roadster for two—it is a Packard the same as
our other car, but now she wants to tour around, and she thinks she will
bring Jimmy over to Paris for a little jaunt.”
“Jimmy! Good gracious, why will she have to bring that child with her?”
complained Dodo, poutingly.
“She wouldn’t bring him, Dodo, if she thought there were better
‘handles’ to be had on the Continent,” laughed Eleanor.
“That’s a good idea! Pa, we’ll wire Ma to leave Jimmy there, as she’ll
have more fun selecting her future son-in-law from the crowd of titles
she can have for the asking, over here,” eagerly suggested Dodo.
Mr. Alexander seemed to take the suggestion seriously, for he returned:
“I’ll step over, now, and send a word that will keep that little Osgood
boy at home with his folks.”
No one knew what Mr. Alexander said in his message, but the next day a
reply came, saying: “I will do as you say, and not come over at once.
Try and arrange everything satisfactorily for us.”
Even Dodo could not coax her father to tell what he had said, but it was
evident that Mrs. Alexander felt satisfied to remain in England and
leave other matters in the hands of her spouse.
The Count called on the tourists at the hotel, that morning, with the
tickets of admission to the sale, and Mr. Alexander drove them to the
Gallery, and left them there for the day.
They were given good seats in the front row of buyers, and the moment
the sale began everyone was interested in the collection. That day,
Polly secured a Gothic wedding-chest with ornamented and beautifully
carved sides and lid. Mr. Fabian bought two panels from a XVI century
door which he planned to use for two table-ends for his library table.
Eleanor and Dodo bought a few smaller trifles, but that day’s sale
brought out such a conglomeration of beautiful objects, as well as
dreadful imitations, that Mr. Fabian warned the girls about bidding
injudiciously.
“This sale offers a fine opportunity of study for us, girls, but let me
advise you before you bid on anything. I want you to look well at
everything put up, and tell me why it is good, or what makes it
impossible. In this way, you will learn a great deal, even though you
may not care to buy the articles we criticise.”
Then he turned to Dodo and added: “One cannot train his eyes to
recognize art and beauty at once, you see. Your eyes may criticise and
your hands may accomplish art-work, but the inspiration that truly
expresses art comes from Mind alone. Thus the finer and more harmonious
the thoughts of the mentality that thinks, the more beautiful and
perfect will be his achievement in any line of work.
“Take our own line, for instance—interior decorating. The genius is one
who has sympathy, tact, good sense, and practicality, _combined_ with
his talent to select, assort, group and arrange the numerous objects
necessary to create an atmosphere.
“Wall-coverings and hangings, floor-coverings, pictures,
lighting-fixtures and trim of rooms, are fully as important a feature in
an effect, as the furniture of the room, for it all goes to make the
complete picture of a home.
“No novice can win laurels in this line, Dodo. But one who earnestly
studies and conscientiously applies the valuable experiences of other
successful artists of the past, will win. That is why I wanted my girls
to see the collections in Europe—to benefit them by the successes and
hard work of others, whose work of past times is still found to be the
best of its kind, and now are on free exhibition in museums and chateaux
of the Continent.”
Turning to the other girls who were listening to him, he added: “Now
gaze about and remember. Tell me how _not_ to decorate with impossible
objects on view here and elsewhere; and how to use what is really good
that will combine to present a perfect interior.”
Then the girls took a new interest in studying and criticising the
different pieces that were placed on sale. Dodo showed an aptitude that
astonished Mr. Fabian and his students, for no one had given her credit
for having such a critical sense on works of art.
The first piece exhibited for sale was a secretaire. The other girls
were still musing over its form and construction when Dodo exclaimed
impetuously: “Oh what a monstrosity! even though it has a beautiful
grain in the wood, it is so awfully clumsy.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Mr. Fabian, highly pleased, while the Count
turned to notice the girl he had paid no attention to, before this.
“Why just look at it! With its heavy thick-set legs that belong to a
rhinoceros, and its slender graceful body that looks like a fawn’s.”
Everyone within hearing of this remark, laughed softly. Loud speaking or
disturbing sounds were forbidden, so Polly and Eleanor had to hush their
merriment with their handkerchiefs.
The Count suddenly adjusted the monocle he affected and whispered to
Polly: “You must be proud of your fellow-student.”
Polly instantly replied, without explaining the situation: “Oh yes, we
are. Dodo is very remarkable in many ways.”
But Mr. Fabian said, as soon as he could control his sense of humor,
“Dodo, you have a true eye for lines, and that criticism is worthy of a
news-paper man—it is so graphic.”
Following the secretaire, were several pieces of nondescript furniture
that was quickly bid upon and sold to people who wanted mere articles
for use and not for beauty. Then a suite of furniture was placed upon
the dais and the auctioneer began to point out its especial claims to
beauty.
“Girls, is anything wrong with that furniture? Who would use it in a
home, and what style of house does it belong in?” said Mr. Fabian.
Again Dodo was the first with her criticism. “Who wants doleful
furniture, in a bed-room, to make you weep just as you lose
consciousness in sleep? One needs cheerful objects to close one’s eyes
upon, and also to bid you good-morning when you wake up.”
“Fine!” complimented Count Chalmys, still more interested in this
precocious young lady of not yet seventeen.
“True, and who wants majestic pieces in a nursery?” said Eleanor.
“Or dainty personal lounges or chairs in the City Hall,” added Polly,
smilingly.
“Exactly, girls! I am so proud of you all that I feel as if someone had
presented me with a bouquet of flowers.”
The impossible set of furniture had been sold and now a Gothic armchair
of carved deadwood, upholstered in faded tapestry with beautiful blends
of colors that only great age could produce was brought out and placed
on exhibition. The moment Polly saw it she made up her mind to have it.
But she now knew how to go about bidding in a public sale, because of
the experience Eleanor and she had had in New York, when they went about
with Mr. Fabian.
The auctioneer started the chair at a reasonable figure and instantly
there was lively bidding for it. Polly said not a word but waited
eagerly. Then one bidder after another fell out of the contest, until it
finally narrowed down to two men.
Polly’s companions knew that she was but waiting her time to speak out.
And they were anxiously watching the two men who seemed bent on getting
the chair. Finally one of the men shook his head to indicate that he
would go no higher, and the auctioneer said: “What! Is this all I can
get for this fine example of cabinet-work?”
Very calmly and quietly, then, Polly raised the last bid.
Everyone turned to glance at the unexpected contestant, and the
amazement expressed on many faces, as well as on that of the auctioneer
because of the girl’s youth amused Polly’s friends. The auctioneer
asked: “Did the young lady make a bid?”
Polly noded affirmatively. But the man who was bidding thought to cut
her out by raising his bid considerably higher. The salesman turned then
to Polly to see if she still wished to bid.
“Double his bid!” called out Polly.
Again there was surprise shown by others, and the man who thought he had
frightened off his youthful opponent, frowned.
When the auctioneer smilingly looked to the collector to increase his
bid, the man carefully raised it a small sum. Polly now knew he was wary
of spending his money, so she took advantage of the cue to call out a
figure that was startlingly higher than the collector’s; so that he
instantly shook his head in refusal of any further bidding or interest
in the chair.
“What! no higher bid from you when you want this chair?” coaxed the
auctioneer.
Again the man frowned and shook his head positively, but he did this
hoping Polly would weaken, and then he would come back and mention a
slight increase on her price.
The auctioneer thinking his negative signal was final, turned to Polly
and said: “It’s yours, Miss. And allow me to congratulate you, not alone
on having acquired the finest bit in this entire lot, but also on being
a very clever and experienced buyer.”
The moment the collector realized that the auctioneer had knocked down
the chair to his adversary without again consulting him, he protested.
“I claim that chair!” cried he.
“By what right?” demanded the auctioneer.
“Because I was bidding on it against this young lady, and you did not
cry it three times as you should have done.”
“I asked you, and you shook your head. Then I told you it was worth
higher bidding, but you denied going higher—a shake of the head is as
legal a denial as a spoken word, in this case. I have witnesses that you
refused to go higher, so I sold it to the young lady.”
The man who was a dealer and had a customer for such a chair, was
furious at having lost it to a mere girl. He began an argument, but the
auctioneer calmly remarked: “This is a public sale, and as such, order
must be maintained. I shall have to ask anyone creating a disturbance to
leave the premises.”
That quieted the disputant, and Polly kept her chair. Her companions
congratulated her on securing it, but Mr. Fabian wished to know why she
took such a sudden fancy for the piece of furniture, when there were
other fine pieces that might appeal to a girl.
“Because, the moment I saw that chair tapestry it reminded me of my home
at Pebbly Pit. We have just such wonderful sunsets as that chair
covering represents. Glorious colors that flare in points at some
places, and then fade away in the western sky like misty violets in a
rivulet; or like the gray of twilight before night falls,” explained
Polly, reminiscently.
“Oh yes, Polly,” assented Eleanor. “Just like we saw over Rainbow
Cliffs, so many times.”
“Miss Polly is some artiste natural born, I think,” said the Count, who
had been deeply impressed by the girl’s remark.
“Polly’s a poet and doesn’t know it!” declared Dodo, fervently. “If I
ever could say such a lovely thing in words about an old chair, I’d
begin to believe I had escaped Ma’s plans for a title in the family.”
Of course her companions laughed at her unconscious rhyme and, also, at
her quaint expression of face, but the Count wondered what she meant by
“a title in the family.”
After Polly secured the armchair, Eleanor bid upon and got a XVI century
cabinet of the Lyonnaise school; and Dodo bought a Renaissance hall
table. Mr. Fabian secured a Spanish Renaissance divan, and the Count
managed to buy the pictures he wanted. Towards the end of the day, Polly
and Eleanor secured a few odd things, such as an iron lock, chiselled
from a solid block of metal that was said to date from the XV century;
and Polly got an old door-knocker that was more than two hundred years
old.
The last group of furniture pieces put up for sale, that day, was
arranged on the dais just as Mr. Fabian was preparing to go. He turned
and saw it, then the auctioneer called out: “Here is a splendid suite of
furniture for a bachelor’s den. Now what am I bid for it?”
Mr. Fabian whispered to the girls: “It is a pity the man should try to
sell that set by praising it as he did. He knows, only too well, that it
is unsuitable for a man’s room. But tell me why, girls?”
Dodo curled her lips in scorn at the elaborate pieces and remarked:
“Would one wish to decorate a ball-room with black crêpe?”
Her friends laughed at the very sarcastic criticism, and the Count said,
smilingly: “But that is not mourning furniture!”
“No, but it is just as bad taste for a man’s room. Why should a
bachelor’s _den_ use soft tints and motifs of Louis XVI period, when
they are more appropriate in a reception room, or a lady’s boudoir?”
That last retort from such a prepossessing girl, completed the havoc in
the Count’s susceptible heart. He thenceforth planned to lay his title
and encumbered Italian estate at Dodo’s feet. But he found it not as
easy as he had thought for, when he took this fervent decision.
He invited the American party to be his guests that night, at dinner,
and he arranged so that he could sit next to Dodo. But that was all the
good it did him, for the girls were so full of the fun and joys of
bargain hunting that they spoke of nothing else.
After the exultation of possession had calmed down, somewhat, Nancy
Fabian said: “Daddy, why are some such atrocious pieces of furniture as
we saw today flung to the people?”
“One reason why France has, of recent years, had some such uncouth
furniture made, is because the Guild of Cabinet Makers is no longer in
existence to enforce its laws. There was once a provision made, in 1645,
that every piece of furniture made in France had to be passed upon by
the Guild. And that is why old furniture from these French cabinet
makers, is so highly prized by collectors, now.
“This Guild examined every aspirant to the title of Master Craftsman,
and without a certificate signed by ten of the jurors of the Guild, he
dared not establish himself; their regulations were very strict so as to
protect art, consequently but few atrocities were cast upon the market
of France for more than two hundred years after the founding of this
protective Guild.”
“Well, it’s too bad we haven’t a Guild in America,” said Polly, her tone
causing her friends to laugh heartily.