together, we were followed by Leo--a most
unusual circumstance, as that faithful animal was generally in
attendance on his master. Now, however, he seemed to have something
oppressive on his mind, for he kept close to Zara, and his big brown
eyes, whenever he raised them to her face, were full of intense
melancholy. His tail drooped in a forlorn way, and all the vivacity of
his nature seemed to have gone out of him.

"Leo does not seem well," I said, patting the dog's beautiful silky
coat, an attention to which he responded by a heavy sigh and a wistful
gaze approaching to tears. Zara looked at him.

"Poor Leo!" she murmured caressingly. "Perhaps he feels lonely. Do you
want to come with your mistress to-day, old boy? So you shall. Come
along--cheer up, Leo!"

And, nodding to me, she passed into her studio, the dog following her.
I turned into my own apartment, and then bethought myself of the
newspaper Mrs. Everard had thrust into my pocket. It was a Roman
journal, and the passage marked for my perusal ran as follows:

"The picture of the Improvisatrice, painted by our countryman Signor
Raffaello Cellini, has been purchased by Prince N----for the sum of
forty thousand francs. The Prince generously permits it to remain on
view for a few days longer, so that those who have not yet enjoyed its
attraction, have still time to behold one of the most wonderful
pictures of the age. The colouring yet remains a marvel to both
students and connoisseurs, and the life-like appearance of the girl's
figure, robed in its clinging white draperies ornamented with lilies of
the valley, is so strong, that one imagines she will step out of the
canvas and confront the bystanders. Signor Cellini must now be
undoubtedly acknowledged as one of the greatest geniuses of modern
times."

I could see no reason, as I perused this, to be sure that _I_ had
served as the model for this successful work of art, unless the white
dress and the lilies of the valley, which I had certainly worn at
Cannes, were sufficient authority for forming such a conclusion. Still
I felt quite a curiosity about the picture--the more so as I could
foresee no possible chance of my ever beholding it. I certainly should
not go to Rome on purpose, and in a few days it would be in the
possession of Prince N----, a personage whom in all probability I
should never know. I put the newspaper carefully by, and then turned my
mind to the consideration of quite another subject--n