CHAPTER VII WHAT THE "STANDARD" SAID OF THE PICTURE
We did not return immediately to the châlet, but spent the rest of the day in exploring the antiquities of Rivoli. Daphne, from her resemblance to the cathedral Madonna, drew attention wherever she went. She frequently expressed her annoyance at the staring to which she was exposed, especially when she learned from some semi-audible remarks that she was regarded as the artist's future bride!
For my own part, I was secretly delighted at all this, knowing that with the increase of her displeasure came a proportional decrease in the artist's chances of winning her. It will be readily guessed that I did not let the grass grow beneath my feet, and in the absence of my rival I used every opportunity of strengthening my hold upon her affections.
Toward the close of the day, when the purple hues of twilight were suffusing the air, and the bell of the Angelus was sounding softly from the cathedral-tower, Daphne and I set off home. My uncle, promising to follow us later, lingered behind, on pretence of awaiting the arrival of the diligence from Campo (the nearest large town to Rivoli), with its slender freight of letters and newspapers, his real object being to keep his appointment with the cathedral attendant.
Old Ursula had prepared a dainty repast for us, and when the meal was over Daphne lit the lamp, drew the curtains, and took her seat by the fire.
"Read to me, Frank. There is a whole heap of newspapers over there."
I sat on a footstool at her feet, with the file of journals beside me, in the light of the blazing fire, and wished that Angelo were looking through the casement, to see how cosy and comfortable we were.
"Where shall I begin?"