CHAPTER XII
The door was opened to Ragna by Nando—Valentini had never permitted her to keep a latchkey—the anxiety of whose countenance was changed to relief at sight of her.
"Meno male, Signora, that you have come at last!"
"Why, Nando, what has happened?"
"The Signorini are crying for you, Signora,—the Sor Padrone found them in mischief and beat them,—beat them as though to break their poor little bones—"
But Ragna stayed for no more, her heart in her mouth she sped up the stairs to the room shared by the children.
What had happened was this: while Carolina saw to the preparation of their goûter, they had wandered in search of amusement and finding the door of Egidio's studio open,—a most unusual occurrence, as he generally kept the key in his pocket when not at work, had strayed in. On the large upright easel near the window stood the portrait of a lady, all but finished, a tall beautiful lady whose white dress and long scarlet scarf threw into relief the dark beauty of her head and the slender grace of her figure. The palette with its sheaf of brushes thrust into the thumb-hole lay carelessly in the box of the easel, as Egidio had left it on going to luncheon.
The boys stood hand-in-hand, gazing open-mouthed at the canvas which was lowered to the last notch, as Egidio had been working on the hair and shoulder-drapery.
"What a beautiful lady," said Mimmo in awed tones, "she must be a princess!"
"Yeth, a fairy princeth," agreed Beppino, on whom his mother's fairy tales had made a deep if confused impression.