woman seated on a throne,
behind which stood a demon whispering in her ear and pointing to a
handsome youth in the circle of the courtiers. The design and color were
in the style of Correggio. Denslow stood close behind me. In advance were
Honoria, Dalton, and the Duke, whose conversation was addressed
alternately to her and Dalton. The lights of the gallery burst forth in
their full refulgence as we approached the picture.

The glorious harmony of its colors,--the force of the shadows, which
seemed to be converging in the rays of a single unseen source of light,--
the unity of sentiment, which drew all the groups together, in the idea;--
I had seen all this before, but with the eyes of supercilious criticism.
Now the picture smote us with awe.

"I have the original of this excellent work," said the Duke, "in my house
at A----, but your copy is nearly as good."

The remark, intended for Honoria, reached the pride of her companion, who
blandly replied,--

"Your Highness's exquisite judgment is for once at fault. The piece is
original. It was purchased from a well-known collection in Italy, where
there are none others of the school."

Honoria was gazing upon the picture, as I was, in silent astonishment.

"If this," said she, "is a copy, what must have been the genuine work? Did
you never before notice the likeness between the queen, in that picture,
and myself?" she asked, addressing Dalton.

The remark excited general attention. Every one murmured, "The likeness is
perfect."

"And the demon behind the queen," said Denslow, insipidly, "resembles your
Highness's valet."

There was another exclamation. No sooner was it observed, than the
likeness to Reve de Noir seemed to be even more perfect.

The Duke made a sign.

Reve de Noir placed himself near the canvas. His profile was the
counterpart of that in the painting. He seemed to have stepped out of it.

"It was I," said the Duke, in a gentle voice, and with a smile which just
disclosed the ivory line under the black moustache, "who caused this
picture to be copied and altered. The beauty of the Hon. Mrs. Denslow,
whom it was my highest pleasure to know, seemed to me to surpass that of
the queen of my original. I first, with great secrecy, unknown to your
wife," continued the Duke, turning to Denslow, "procured a portrait from
the life by memory, which was afterwards transferred to this canvas. The
resemblance to my attendant is, I confess, remarkable and in