Here Gerard was left alone till he became quite uneasy, and doubted whether the maid had not shown him to the wrong place.
These doubts were agreeably dissipated.
A light step came swiftly behind the curtain; it parted in the middle, and there stood a figure the heathens might have worshipped. It was not quite Venus, nor quite Minerva; but between the two; nobler than Venus, more womanly than Jupiter's daughter. Toga, tunic, sandals; nothing was modern. And as for beauty, that is of all times.
Gerard started up, and all the artist in him flushed with pleasure.
“Oh!” he cried innocently, and gazed in rapture.
This added the last charm to his model: a light blush tinted her cheeks, and her eyes brightened, and her mouth smiled with delicious complacency at this genuine tribute to her charms.
When they had looked at one another so some time, and she saw Gerard's eloquence was confined to ejaculating and gazing, she spoke. “Well, Gerardo, thou seest I have made myself an antique monster for thee.”
“A monster? I doubt Fra Colonna would fall down and adore your highness, seeing you so habited.”
“Nay, I care not to be adored by an old man. I would liever be loved by a young one: of my own choosing.”
Gerard took out his pencils, arranged his canvas, which he had covered with stout paper, and set to work; and so absorbed was he that he had no mercy on his model. At last, after near an hour in one posture, “Gerardo,” said she faintly, “I can stand so no more, even for thee.”