“Saints of heaven!” cried Gerard, “what is amiss? what has she done?”
“She knows right well. 'Tis not the first time. The nasty toad! I'll learn her to come to me stinking of the musk-cat.”
“Alas! Signora, 'twas a small fault, methinks.”
“A small fault? Nay, 'twas a foul fault.” She added with an amazing sudden descent to humility and sweetness, “Are you wroth with me for beating her, Gerar-do?”
“Signora, it ill becomes me to school you; but methinks such as Heaven appoints to govern others should govern themselves.”
“That is true, Gerardo. How wise you are, to be so young.” She then called the other maid, and gave her a little purse. “Take that to Floretta, and tell her 'the Gerardo' hath interceded for her; and so I must needs forgive her. There, Gerardo.”
Gerard coloured all over at the compliment; but not knowing how to turn a phrase equal to the occasion, asked her if he should resume her picture.
“Not yet; beating that hussy hath somewhat breathed me. I'll sit awhile, and you shall talk to me. I know you can talk, an it pleases you, as rarely as you draw.”
“That were easily done.
“Do it then, Gerardo.”