Each combatant smiled, and drew a long breath.
'These are our old battles,' said the Contessa, shaking her head. 'Scusi!
I must go and give an order.'
And to Eleanor's alarm, she rose and left the room.
The young priest showed a momentary embarrassment at being left alone with the strange lady. But it soon passed. He sat a moment, quieting down, with his eyes dropped, his finger-tips lightly joined upon his knee. Then he said sweetly:
'You are perhaps not acquainted with the pictures in the Palazzo, Madame. May I offer you my services? I believe that I know the names of the portraits.'
Eleanor was grateful to him, and they wandered through the bare rooms, looking at the very doubtful works of art that they contained.
Presently, as they returned to the salone from which they had started,
Eleanor caught sight of a fine old copy of the Raphael St. Cecilia at
Bologna. The original has been much injured, and the excellence of the copy
struck her. She was seized, too, with a stabbing memory of a day in the
Bologna Gallery with Manisty!
She hurried across the room to look at the picture. The priest followed her.
'Ah! that, Madame,' he said with enthusiasm—that is a capolavoro. It is by Michael Angelo.'
Eleanor looked at him in astonishment. 'This one? It is a copy, Padre, of
Raphael's St. Cecilia at Bologna—a very interesting and early copy.'