“Look at this,” he said, opening a book of prints to a page marked by a yellow tab. “Titian,” he said, pointing. It was the same woman, yet a painting of the Madonna. “Here,” he said, his white splotched finger aimed at one of Van Eyck’s. “And here,” David said, flipping quickly to one of Lippi’s virgins. Michael turned his head slightly and smiled. Each print portrayed the same woman, more or less.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov