"Wait," said Titian. He sprang before him. "Not by daylight—you would be murdered in the open street! You must wait till night.... I shall row you, myself, out from the city. It is arranged. A boat waits for you."
The young man looked at him gratefully. "You take this risk for me?" he said humbly.
"For you and Giorgione and for—her."
They sat silent.
"He will never paint again," said the young man, looking up quickly with the thought.
Titian shook his head. "Never again," he said slowly.
The young man looked at him. "There are a dozen pictures begun," he said, "a dozen and more."
"Yes."
"Who can tell?" The painter's face had clouded.