a new flask and skilfully shaking off the drops of oil[9] which swam at
the top, remarked, "I should not have deemed Teresina capable of such
falseness and artfulness. I cannot banish from my mind the recollection
of what a charming figure she made as she sat on horseback singing
Spanish ballads, whilst the horse pranced along in graceful curvets."
"That was her culminating point," interrupted Theodore; "I still
remember the strange impression which the scene made upon me. I forgot
my pain; she seemed to me like a creature of a higher race. It is
indeed very true that such moments are turning-points in one's life,
and that in them many images arise which time does not avail to dim.
Whenever I have succeeded with any fine _romance_, it has always been
when Teresina's image has stepped forth from the treasure-house of my
mind in clear bright colours at the moment of writing it."

"But," said Edward, "but let us not forget the artistic Lauretta; and,
scattering all rancour to the winds, let us drink to the health of the
two sisters." They did so. "Oh," exclaimed Theodore, "how the fragrant
breezes of Italy arise out of this wine and fan my cheeks,--my blood
rolls with quickened energy in my veins. Oh! why must I so soon leave
that glorious land again!" "As yet," interrupted Edward, "as yet in all
that you have told me I can see no connection with the beautiful
picture, and so I believe that you still have something more to tell me
about the sisters. Of course I perceive plainly that the ladies in the
picture are none other than Lauretta and Teresina themselves." "You are
right, they are," replied Theodore; "and my ejaculations and sighs, and
my longings after the glorious land of Italy, will form a fitting
introduction to what I still have to say. A short time ago, perhaps
about two years since, just before leaving Rome, I made a little
excursion on horseback. Before an inn stood a charming girl; the idea
struck me how nice it would be to receive a cup of wine at the hands of
the pretty child. I pulled up before the door, in a walk so thickly
planted on each side with shrubs that the sunlight could only make its
way through in patches. In the distance I heard sounds of singing and
the tinkling of a guitar. I pricked up my ears and listened, for the
two female voices affected me somehow in a singular fashion; strangely
enough dim recollections began to stir within my mind, but they refused
to take definite shape. I dismounte