was interested; and watched and listened keenly. Christina was a lovely
figure in her bright dress and bright beauty, a little excited, and
happy, not too much; not too much to make Dolly's presence desirable
and agreeable; just enough to make her more lovely than usual. The
other figure of the little party was more interesting yet to Dolly. She
thought he was very peculiar, and unlike any one she had ever seen. His
repose of demeanour was striking; he seemed to make no unnecessary
movement; he sat still; neither hand nor head nor foot betrayed any
restlessness either of mind or body; and yet when he did move, were it
only hand or foot or head, the impression he gave Dolly was of
readiness for the keenest action, if the time for action once came. How
the two seemingly contradictory impressions were conveyed together,
Dolly did not stop to think; she had no time to moralise upon her
observations; however, this mingling of calm and vigour was very
imposing to her; it attracted and fascinated. No man could sit more
quiet in company; and yet, if he turned his head or shifted the
position of his hand, what Dolly saw was power and readiness to move
with effect if there were anything to be done; and the calm intensified
the power to her mind. And then, apart from all this, the room in which
they were sitting was filled with pretty things and charming things
which the Thayers had been collecting since they came to Rome. Dolly's
eye strayed from one to another, as she sat listening to her
companions; though the pretty things never diverted her attention from
what these were saying or what they were doing. It was a charmed hour
altogether! of rest and relief and enjoyment. Taken out of herself and
away from her cares, Dolly tasted and delighted in the fairy minutes as
they flew, and did not even trouble herself to think how soon they
would be flown by and gone.

"You have been a great while away, Sandie," Christina was saying. "Why
could you not join us before? You might have skipped something. Here
have I stayed away from the Sistine to-night, for your sake."

"Is it any special loss, this evening of all others?"

"Certainly! It is Christmas; there is music, and company."

"Do you enjoy the Sistine Chapel, apart from music and company?"

"No, indeed I don't! I don't like it at all. Such horrid things on the
walls, as are enough to give one the nightmare after being there. I
know it is Michael Angelo, and I am horribly out of