“Stay, _señor_.” He raised his hand, pointing a finger at me. “You who
are of the art a judge—you would see this painting, no? This picture
by the great Vasquez that soon will be seen by all the world?”
He laughed again—an eery laugh that chilled my blood.
“One moment, _señor_—one little moment, and your eyes shall see that
which they have never seen before.” He rose to his feet unsteadily.
“Life upon canvas, _señor_. And beauty—vivid and real to make your
pulses beat strong.”