unoccupied young girls, whose wits and mischief
ask for nothing better than secrets to guess, schemes to create or
baffle, and who know how to find too many interpretations for each
gesture, glance, and word, to fail in discovering the right one.

At this moment, however, the presence of Madame Servin produced an
interlude in the drama thus played below the surface in these various
young hearts, the sentiments, ideas, and progress of which were
expressed by phrases that were almost allegorical, by mischievous
glances, by gestures, by silence even, more intelligible than words. As
soon as Madame Servin entered the studio, her eyes turned to the door
near which Ginevra was seated. Under present circumstances the fact of
this glance was not lost. Though at first none of the pupils took notice
of it, Mademoiselle Thirion recollected it later, and it explained
to her the doubt, fear, and mystery which now gave something wild and
frightened to Madame Servin's eyes.

"Mesdemoiselles," she said, "Monsieur Servin cannot come to-day."

Then she went round complimenting each young girl, receiving in return
a volume of those feminine caresses which are given as much by the tones
of the voice and by looks as by gestures. She presently reached Ginevra,
under the influence of an uneasiness she tried in vain to disguise. They
nodded to each other in a friendly way, but said nothing; one painted,
the other stood looking at the painting. The breathing of the soldier in
the closet could be distinctly heard, but Madame Servin appeared not to
notice it; her feigned ignorance was so obvious that Ginevra recognized
it at once for wilful deafness. Presently the unknown man turned on his
pallet.

The Italian then looked fixedly at Madame Servin, who said, without the
slightest change of face:--

"Your copy is as fine as the original; if I had to choose between the
two I should be puzzled."

"Monsieur Servin has not taken his wife into his confidence as to this
mystery," thought Ginevra, who, after replying to the young wife's
speech with a gentle smile of incredulity, began to hum a Corsican
"canzonetta" to cover the noise that was made by the prisoner.

It was so unusual a thing to hear the studious Italian sing, that
all the other young girls looked up at her in surprise. Later, this
circumstance served as proof to the charitable suppositions of jealousy.

Madame Servin soon went away, and the session ended without further
events; Gi