“Eight thousand francs,” answered Camille. He looked tired, but his blue eyes were very bright. “I am glad, and yet I shall be sorry to part with it.”
“You will still have the charming original,” the Prince said not quite pleasantly.
There was a sudden silence. The men all waited for Camille’s answer. Beyond, in the next room, they heard the two girls splashing the water, clattering the cups and plates.
The young Frenchman paused in the act of striking a match. He looked surprised. “But this is the original. I have made no copy.”
“I meant—” The Prince stopped short. After all, he thought, he goes well who goes slowly.
Camille was waiting. “You meant?”
Tor di Rocca had had time to think. “Nothing,” he said sweetly.
Silence was again ensuing but Gontrand flung himself into the breach.
“The Duchess said she wanted her daughter’s portrait painted.”
“She said the same to me.”