"I love him not."
"Well, then, the signor you love not—seated at this table, and dict to me just what you would say to him."
"Well if he sat there I should say, 'Go away.'"
Gerard, who was flourishing his pen by way of preparation, laid it down with a groan.
"And when he was gone," said Floretta, "your highness would say, 'Come back.'"
"Like enough, wench. Now silence, all, and let me think. He pestered me to write, and I promised; so mine honour is engaged. What lie shall I tell the Gerardo to tell the fool?" and she turned her head away from them and fell into deep thought, with her noble chin resting on her white hand, half clenched.
She was so lovely and statuesque, and looked so inspired with thoughts celestial, as she sat thus, impregnating herself with mendacity, that Gerard forgot all, except art, and proceeded eagerly to transfer that exquisite profile to paper.
He had very nearly finished when the fair statue turned brusquely round and looked at him.
"Nay, signora," said he, a little peevishly, "for Heaven's sake change not your posture; 'twas perfect. See, you are nearly finished."
All eyes were instantly on the work, and all tongues active. "How like! and done in a minute: nay, methinks her highness's chin is not quite so—"