"Certainly. Having nothing to occupy my leisure moments after I had severed myself from the works, I took to turning. I was a turner by trade years ago, you know."
I looked at him in wonderment. People had said he was eccentric, and this was evidently one of his eccentricities. He had secretly established a great workshop within that princely mansion:
"Would you like to see how I can work?" he asked, noticing my look of wonder. "Well, watch—excuse me."
Thereupon he threw off his jacket, and having raised a lever which set one of the lathes at work, he seated himself at it, selected a piece of ivory, and placed it in position.
"Now," he laughed, looking towards me, "what shall I make you? Ah, I know, an object useful to all you ladies—a box for your powder-puff, eh?"
"You seem to be fully aware of feminine mysteries, Mr. Keppel," I laughed.
"Well, you see, I was married once," he answered. "But in them days my poor Mary didn't want face-powder, bless her!"
And that instant his keen chisel cut deeply into the revolving ivory with a harsh sawing sound that rendered further conversation impossible.
I stood behind and watched him. His grand old head was bent keenly over his work as he hollowed out the box to the desired depth, carefully gauged it, finished it, and quickly turned the lid until it fitted with precision and exactness. Then he rubbed it down, polished it in several ways, and at last handed it to me complete.
"This is a little souvenir, Miss Rosselli, of your first visit to me."