By this sally Saint-Herem spared himself the obligation of offering his arm to Princess Wileska, who, in his eyes, appeared a much less agreeable companion than her beautiful niece. He therefore led the way with the countess, while M. de Riancourt followed with the princess.
"I have traveled much," remarked the countess to her companion, "and I have never seen anything that could equal—not in magnificence, for any millionaire can purchase magnificence with his money—but the marvelous taste which has presided over the construction of this place. It is a veritable musée of splendors—allow me to pause and admire the superb paintings of this ceiling."
"After the admiration of the work comes the reward to the author; does it not, madame?" returned Florestan with a smile. "One word from your lips, countess, will make the artist, who painted this ceiling, the happiest and proudest man in the universe," he concluded, with a wave of the hand toward one of the most illustrious masters of the modern school.
"A thousand thanks for procuring me such good fortune," replied the countess, advancing toward the artist.
"My dear friend," said Florestan, "the Countess Zomaloff wishes to express to you all her admiration for your work."
"Not my admiration only, but my gratitude also," rejoined the young woman graciously. "The exquisite pleasure given by such a master-piece, is a debt contracted toward its creator."
"However precious and flattering such praises may be to me," returned the artist, with a modesty marked by good taste, "I can only accept a share of it. Pray allow me to place myself hors de cause, I can then express myself more freely. For instance, let us take the painting of the concert gallery, which you will admire by and by; they are due to our Raphaël—M. Ingrès. Well, this monumental work, which in the future will furnish art pilgrims as much cause of admiration as the most beautiful frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, would perhaps never have existed were it not for my excellent friend Saint-Herem. Was it not he who gave our French Raphael the subject of one of his immortal pages? Truly, madame, in these days of vulgar luxuries and brutal magnificences, is it not a phenomenon to meet a Medicis, as in the brightest epoch of Italian republics?"
"You are right," said the countess, enthusiastically, "and history is just in illustrating—"
"Forgive the interruption, countess," laughed Florestan, "but I am as modest as my illustrious friend; and for fear your admiration should be thrown away on an unworthy object, I shall point out the veritable Medici—This is he."
As he spoke, he designated the portrait above the chimney.