and searching glance. We seem to have a glimpse in him of an undefined
melancholy. This expression surprises us in this man, who ought to be
happy at living and who lacks no pleasures that Fortune can procure.

This is a state of mind which is indicated to us, moreover, by a motto
traced above his name on one of the walls of his office: _Nulla sine
mærore voluptas_. Why this thought? Is it purely emblematic, or does it
contain an allusion to some private matter? We are led to believe that
it is intended as a complementary explanation, that it was placed upon
the picture because it was in sympathy with a train of ideas special to
the model. Perhaps it recalls some domestic sorrow, the lively grief
left by an absent one, or by some eternal separation. A moral mystery,
which seems to us very attractive, hovers around Georg Gisze.

He has long fair hair confined beneath a black cap; his smooth-shaven
face is rather thin. He wears a rich costume, a pourpoint of cerise silk
with puffed sleeves, and, over this pourpoint, a cloak of black wool
lined with fur. The table on which he is leaning is covered with a
Persian rug, and, beside the various objects scattered upon it, you
notice a bunch of carnations in an artistically wrought Venetian glass.
These carnations, like the motto, awake in us an image, a poetical
reminiscence. Sentiment, Germanic in its essence, mingled with dreams
and vague ideals, is introduced into this merchant's office.

The master has fully displayed with supreme power, and with all the
resources of his art, the colours of the costume, the paleness of the
face, and the freshness of the flesh standing out from the background of
green panels. He has played with all the various tones of the
accessories, book and registers, inkstand, watch, and scales for
weighing the gold. Every detail, with no link missing, contributes to