And he drew the artist away with him. At this moment he
was able to do so, for a fire ran in the blood of the young
sculptor; a change had taken place in his soul; he felt a longing
to tear from the old, the accustomed—to forget, if possible, his
own individuality; and therefore it was that he followed
Angelo.
In an out-of-the-way suburb of Rome lay a tavern much
visited by artists. It was built on the ruins of some ancient
baths. The great yellow citrons hung down among the dark shining
leaves, and covered a part of the old reddish-yellow walls. The
tavern consisted of a vaulted chamber, almost like a cavern, in the
ruins. A lamp burned there before the picture of the Madonna. A
great fire gleamed on the hearth, and roasting and boiling was
going on there; without, under the
