n.

'Now let us go back,' she said, 'for we have been too long away.'

He led her out of the hall by another door and she found herself quite
in the farthest recess of the portico and behind all the assembled
company, just as the dark-haired Muse was finishing her last
improvisation in an attitude of inspired wonder before the hideous bust
of the Queen. At the last line of her sonnet she took the laurels from
her head, and with a graceful movement that showed her nervous but
well-shaped white arms to great advantage she placed the wreath upon the
damp clay effigy of the great Christina's portentous wig; then, cleverly
kicking the train of her long purple silk robe out of the way behind
her, she backed towards the side exit, stretching out her hands and
bending her body while still keeping her upturned eyes on the bust with
an air of rapt adoration, like a Suppliant on an Etruscan vase.

Every one applauded enthusiastically, knowing that applause was expected
in payment for having been invited to such a feast of the soul; but the
wise Muse paid no attention to the sounds. To the last her gaze was on
the bust, even when she lifted the dark velvet curtain with one hand
and backed out with a sweeping courtesy that looked very well.

A good-looking young man of the people, dressed in his best Sunday
clothes, was waiting for her at the head of the wooden steps. As she met
his glance, she jerked her thumb backwards over her shoulder towards the
stage and the Queen.

'May an apoplexy seize her,' whispered the Muse, with a strong
Trastevere accent, 'her, and her friends, and all the family! You shall
take me to supper on Monte Mario to-night! There we shall breathe! Bring
the guitar, too. Old Nena is waiting to help me dress. No--no, I
say--not here!'

For the handsome young fellow had caught her just as she was beginning
to descend the steps, and he planted a very substantial kiss on the nape
of her neck before he let her go; which was no great harm after all,
since they were to be married in a fortnight or so, before the Feast of
Saint John.

It was Stradella's turn after the Muse had disappeared, and while the
improvisatrice was going down from the stage on one side, four liveried
footmen were bringing up chairs on the other, with music-desks for the
little orchestra, which immediately made its appearance. There were not
more than a dozen musicians in all, and they ranged themselves in an
orderly manner on each side o