He was in evening dress, and upon his bosom glittered a cluster of orders; he looked the patrician he was, but there was a deep humility and reverence in the manner of his bow and the way in which he extended his hand to her.
"Will you forgive this intrusion, Miss Leslie?" he said in his excellent English, which was made more musical rather than less by the slight accent. "I have come to beg you to give us the honor and pleasure of your company. Florence tells me that you are not ill, or I should not have bothered you."
Margaret made room for them to enter, standing with downcast eyes under his gaze, which was full of admiration and respectful regard.
"Pray come," he said with an eagerness only half concealed. "For all our sakes, if not for your own, and I should add for your own, too; for there are some people here whom I think you would like to meet." He mentioned some names of which Margaret had heard as those of great people in Rome. "And there are some artists, too, Miss Leslie; surely you will not refuse them the pleasure and honor of making your acquaintance. My mother, too, begs that, if you feel well enough, you will come down. There is Count Vasali, the great musician; he will play for us, I hope."
"Oh, do come, if only for an hour, dear," said the princess, adding her prayer.
Margaret hesitated, and while she hesitated the prince went slowly up to the easel upon which the picture stood, with the cabinet unlocked.
He started, and drew a little nearer, then looked from Margaret to the picture, and from the picture to Margaret again.
"Is this——?" he said, in a low voice, then stopped.
"Oh, it is the picture! May I look now he has seen it?" exclaimed the princess; then she, too, drew near, and stood speechless.
"I—I hope you like it," said Margaret, with the nervousness of an artist whose work is being surveyed and criticised.