'But, signor,' she urged, 'it is very hard for you to go——'
'My good-hearted, dutiful little English lady,' I took the liberty to say, for I was very much in earnest,' it is not at all hard for me to go without the coffee and the tobacco and the loaf. Above all, I do not lose my self-respect or touch my pride when I go without the coffee and the tobacco and the loaf. And now, mademoiselle, since it is our scheme to rout my lady enemy in the morning, we will despoil her of her triumph now by not caring for her or it, and by snapping our fingers at her—So.'
Whilst we had talked I had closed the door, and now I crossed over to my picture and began to work again. She still lingered, watching me whilst I painted.
'Are you fond of pictures?' I asked her, to divert her thoughts.
'I have not seen many, but I am very fond of some of them.'
'Would you like to look at those?' I said, pointing with my brush to a portfolio on the piano.
She opened the portfolio and looked through my sketches. I saw with pleasure that she did not race over them, but that she stopped and looked long at some. I could see from where I stood that they were the best, and I said, 'The young lady has taste and discernment.'
Suddenly she clapped her two hands together, and said—
'Oh!'
Then she came to me with a sketch in her hands, and her face was beautiful.