The young man's eyes were fixed on the page before him. He held it out, pointing to a name scrawled on the margin.
Titian took it in his hands, holding it gently, and turning it so that the light fell on the rich binding. "A treasure!" he said enthusiastically.
The young man nodded. "An Aldine—I saw that. What does the marking mean?" He asked the question almost rudely.
His companion turned the leaves. "It's a bacchanal for the Duke," he said slowly.... "I've been looking up Violante's pose.—Here it is." He read the lines in a musical voice.
A heavy frown had come between the handsome eyes watching him. "You'll not paint her like that?"
"I rather think I shall," responded Titian slowly. "She has promised."
"And Giorgione?"
"Giorgione lets her do as she likes. He trusts her—as I do." He laid his hand again on the shoulder near him. "I tell you, man, you're wrong. Believe in her and—leave her," he said significantly.
The shoulder shrugged itself slightly away. The young man picked up his hat from the table near by. He raised it courteously before he dropped it with a little laugh on the dark curls.
"I go to an appointment," he said.