Teresa smiled sadly at Gerard's simplicity in leaving specimens of his skill at the doors of the great.
“What!” said she, “without promising the servants a share—without even feeing them, to let the signors see thy merchandise! As well have flung it into Tiber.”
“Well-a-day!” sighed Gerard. “Then how is an artist to find a patron? for artists are poor, not rich.”
“By going to some city nobler and not so greedy as this,” said Teresa. “La corte Romana non vuol' pecora senza lana.”
She fell into thought, and said she would come again to-morrow.
The landlady felicitated Gerard. “Teresa has got something in her head,” said she.
Teresa was scarce gone when Pietro returned with his picture, looking black as thunder. Gerard exchanged a glance with the landlady, and followed him upstairs to console him.
“What, have they let thee bring home thy masterpiece?”
“As heretofore.”
“More fools they, then.”