and
errand-boy, Cotoner, who spent the night in a garret that served him as
a studio in one of the cheap districts and the rest of the day with the
young couple. She was mistress of the money; she had never seen so many
banknotes at once. When Renovales handed her the pile of lires which
the impresario gave him she said with a little laugh of joy, "Money,
money!" and ran and hid it away with the serious expression of a
diligent, economical housewife--only to take it out the next day and
squander it with a childish carelessness. What a wonderful thing
painting was! Her illustrious father (in spite of all that her mother
said) had never made so much money in all his travels through the world,
going from cotillon to cotillon as the representative of his king.

While Renovales was in the studio, she had been to drive in the Pincio,
bowing from her landau to the countless wives of ambassadors who were
stationed at Rome, to aristocratic travelers stopping in the city, to
whom she had been introduced in some drawing-room, and to all the crowd
of diplomatic attaches who live about the double court of the Vatican
and the Quirinal.

The painter was introduced by his wife into an official society of the
most rigid formality. The niece of the Marquis of Tarfe, perpetual
foreign minister, was received with open arms by the high society of
Rome, the most exclusive in Europe. At every reception at the two
Spanish embassies, "the famous painter Renovales and his charming wife"
were present and these invitations had spread to the embassies of other
countries. Almost every night there was some function. Since there were
two diplomatic centers, one at the court of the Italian king, the other
at the Vatican, the receptions and evening parties were frequent in this
isolated society that gathered every night, sufficient for its own
enjoyment.

When Renovales got home at dark, tired out with his work, he would find
Josephina, already half dressed, waiting for him, and Cotoner helped him
to put on his evening clothes.

"The cross!" exclaimed Josephina, when she saw him with his dress-coat
on. "Why, man alive, how did you happen to forget your cross? You know
that they all wear something there."

Cotoner went for the insignia, a great cross the Spanish government had
given him for his picture, and the artist, with the ribbon across his
shirt-front and a brilliant circle on his coat, started out with his
wife to spend the evening among di