The great Alfero had expressed his admiration, and her name was ringing through Rome as that of the coming artist.
And through it all Margaret's heart was haunted by trouble. Day after day she met the prince, and his conduct toward her was the same. But though he refrained from paying her marked attention, it was evident to her and Florence—who watched him—that he was continually thinking of her.
Others might flock round her with the ready flattery of their ready tongues, courting the young girl whose picture had become famous in the world of art, and her beauty the theme in the world of fashion, but it was he who now and again stood with extended hand to help her into the carriage, or placed some choice blossom near her plate. No woman, daughter of Eve, could be insensible to devotion such as this; it would have touched a heart of stone, and Margaret's heart was anything but stony.
She scarcely exchanged three words a day with him, but she found herself looking toward him when he spoke to others, and meeting his gaze, which seemed to be always wandering toward her, her own eyes would fall, and her lips tremble.
Get away she must: and yet how? Night after night she lay awake trying to frame some excuse which would withstand the entreaties of the signora and Florence; and she decided to remain until the party broke up and the prince returned to the court, and then she would vanish—forever.
The last night arrived. The party had been out on the hills, and returned with the gayety of spirits which we English—alas!—know nothing of. The great banqueting hall was brilliant with light, and the guests in their magnificent costumes and gorgeous uniforms gave additional splendor to the decorations.
Margaret stole down to the drawing-room a few minutes before the gong sounded, and her advent was the signal for a crowd of courtiers to throng round her.
"I should think you would be glad when we are all gone!" said one, a white-haired veteran, who seemed to find it impossible to leave the side of the quiet English girl, with her sweet smile and rare eyes. "I know you artists so love quiet, and we make such a noise, do we not? Alas! we shall all be quiet enough to-morrow, for we shall be far away from the dear villa, and thinking of you——"
"Please include me, count," said the signora.