"You may laugh, but let me tell you, you quiet little woman, that your name will be ringing all through Italy before the week is out!"
"I sincerely trust not," said Margaret.
"Oh, but it will!" retorted the princess. "Signor Alfero is going to send your picture to be exhibited, and he will express the admiration he feels for it all through Rome; and Rome—which is the art-center of the world—will spread it through Europe, and you will be famous! And then people will ask what the artist is like, and the countess and all those whose hearts you won to-night will tell what a lovely and charming girl you are, and you will have the world at your feet!"
"You talk nonsense very eloquently, princess," said Margaret gently.
"Is it nonsense? That is good! I will tell Ferdinand!"
"Ferdinand—the prince!" said Margaret.
"Yes," laughed Florence. "For if it is nonsense, it is his nonsense, for I heard him say it after you left the room; and he said it almost gravely, as if he were sad rather than otherwise. Now, why should he be sad?" she went on, looking up at Margaret's face thoughtfully.
"Isn't it rather too late for guessing riddles, dear?" suggested Margaret.
"Late! Who could sleep after such a night?" exclaimed the princess, with the sublime contempt for repose belonging to her age. "Why should he be sad, dear? I know he admires you, for when the countess asked him if he thought you pretty—pretty! What impertinence!—he smiled and said, 'No!' and he meant that he thought you more than pretty—lovely!"
"Do you think it is quite fair to construe his thoughts?" said Margaret.