As I entered the massive building on Victor’s arm, I discovered the library was as delightful to visit as the museum.
Like the museum, it was near the city’s college campus, and I hardly ever came this far into the city's center.
The library was one of the oldest buildings in the city and was built by true craftsmen. Everywhere there was detailed woodwork that delighted the eye, and the entire building smelled like books.
Behind the librarian’s station, I spotted a painting secured in a glass case that drew my eye. I’d never seen the painting before, but the colors and style seemed familiar.
Then I noticed the signature in the bottom corner. “Look, Victor,” I pointed at the painting. “It’s signed by Delacroix. The same artist must have painted it as the one at the Phillips mansion.”
“
