"Very unpleasant, Madame," answered Orsino shortly.
Thereupon Madame d'Aragona looked at Gouache and raised her brows a little as though to ask a question, knowing perfectly well that Orsino was watching her. The young man could not see the painter's eyes, and the latter did not betray by any gesture that he was answering the silent interrogation.
"Then I have eyes like a tiger, you say. You frighten me. How disagreeable—to look like a wild beast!"
"It is a prejudice," returned Orsino. "One hears people say of a woman that she is beautiful as a tigress."
"An idea!" exclaimed Gouache, interrupting. "Shall I change the damask cloak to a tiger's skin? One claw just hanging over the white shoulder—Omphale, you know—in a modern drawing-room—a small cast of the Farnese Hercules upon a bracket, there, on the right. Decidedly, here is an idea. Do you permit, Madame!"
"Anything you like—only do not spoil the likeness," answered Madame d'Aragona, leaning back in her chair, and looking sleepily at Orsino from beneath her heavy, half-closed lids.
"You will spoil the whole picture," said Orsino, rather anxiously.
Gouache laughed.
"What harm if I do? I can restore it in five minutes—"
"Five minutes!"