She hurried away, leaving the two young men overwhelmed with amazement.
"What the deuce does this mean?" said Lugari.
"That's more than I can tell. I'm as much in the dark as you are."
"She cannot have fallen in love with him already," said Lugari, in the musing tone of one speaking to himself.
Louis laughed.
"Hardly, I think. I cannot expect to succeed where a royal duke failed."
"There's no accounting for a woman's whims; and he's confoundedly good-looking," went on Lugari, in the same meditative tone.
"Come, Antonio, none of your nonsense," said Louis. "Come with me to my studio, and spend the morning with me. It will help to pass the time until the hour for calling on her ladyship."
They soon reached the residence of the artist. The door was opened for them by a boy of such singular beauty, that Lugari stared at him in surprise and admiration. His short, crisp, black curls fell over a brow of snowy whiteness, and his pale face looked paler in contrast with his large, melancholy, black eyes.
"Well, Isadore," said Louis kindly, "has there been any one here since?"