CHAPTER VIII.
The youth in the shirt-sleeves who had answered Reinhold with such scant courtesy, slammed to the door, and shaking his fist muttered a big oath in his native language between his sharp white teeth. Then he went back into the room and walked with light steps up to a door which divided his studio from the next one. He put his ear against the door and listened for a minute or two. A smile of satisfaction lighted up his dark face, he drew a deep breath as he stood erect, then stealthily as a cat he ran up the winding iron staircase which led to his own room, whence he had come on hearing Reinhold's knock.
In a few minutes he came downstairs again, this time without attempting not to make a noise; indeed, rather stepping more heavily than was necessary and whistling a tune. He had coat and waistcoat on now, and instead of the slippers which he had worn before, had varnished boots on his small feet, at which he glanced with much satisfaction as he walked downstairs. Arrived at the bottom, he went immediately up to a large and handsome Venetian looking-glass and examined his whole figure with the greatest care, arranged his blue tie, fastened one of the gold studs more securely into his shirt-front, and passed a comb through his shining raven-black hair. He whistled more and more softly, and finally left off altogether. Then coming away from the looking-glass, he moved rather noisily first one and then another obstacle as they came in his way, till there was nothing between him and the door against which he had just now listened.
Seizing a stool, which for this very purpose he had placed within reach against the wall, he stood upon it, and applied his eye, as just now his ear, to the door, close to it; for with great trouble he had bored a hole with a very fine gimlet, and with great trouble, too, had he learnt how to look through it so as to see into the next room, or at least to see her in the place where she worked.
The blood rushed into his dark cheeks as he thus looked. "O Bellissima!" he murmured between his lips, pressing a passionate kiss upon the wood.
Suddenly he sprang down noiselessly like a cat: the stool again leaned against the wall, and he stood before the unfinished marble of a colossal female figure as some one knocked at the other side of the door.
"Signor Antonio!"
"Signora!" exclaimed the young man from where he stood. He had grasped chisel and hammer, so as the better to play the part of one surprised.
"Can you come in here for a moment, Signor Antonio? Fatemi il piacere!"
"Si, signora."