Presently she saw the prince approaching, with an old gentleman at his side, an old man with long silvery hair and pale face, from which the dark eyes shone with a strange brilliance that was yet soft and dreamy.
"Miss Leslie," said the prince, "let me introduce Signor Alfero to you."
It was the great artist whose works Margaret had stood before with admiration and awe.
She inclined her head without a word. The great artist's eyes rested on her keenly for a moment, then he said:
"To have seen your picture, Miss Leslie, is to desire a knowledge of you. You are very young!"
It was a strange speech, and it brought the color to Margaret's face.
"I had expected to see an older person—one whose experience would account for her success; but it is always so, it is to youth all things are possible. My dear, you have painted a wonderful picture! It is a work of genius. I cannot tell you how it has moved me. How came you to paint it?"
Margaret looked up questioningly and fearfully.
"I mean," said the great man with a kindly smile, "where did you get your subject? Waves and rocks are old as the hills, but your waves and rocks are new because they are so terribly real. And the figure too! Why, yes—it is your own! Miss Leslie, your picture is a great one. I tell you this without flattery, and as one of our trade. It is great, and it will bring you fame."
Fame! Alas, it might bring her fame, but of what value would fame be to her now?