ic. Their equipages are magnificent. That is all that
foreigners see of Roman families."

"But you know them intimately?"

"Intimately--that is saying too much. I have painted their portraits."

Madame d'Aragona wondered why he was so reticent, for she knew that he
had himself married the daughter of a Roman prince, and she concluded
that he must know much of the Romans.

"Do you think he will bring the tiger?" she asked presently.

"He is quite capable of bringing a whole menagerie of tigers for you to
choose from."

"How interesting. I like men who stop at nothing. It was really
unpardonable of you to suggest the idea and then to tell me calmly that
you had no model for it."

In the meantime Orsino had descended the stairs and was hailing a
passing cab. He debated for a moment what he should do. It chanced that
at that time there was actually a collection of wild beasts to be seen
in the Prati di Castello, and Orsino supposed that the owner might be
induced, for a large consideration, to part with one of his tigers. He
even imagined that he might shoot the beast and bring it back in the
cab. But, in the first place, he was not provided with an adequate sum
of money nor did he know exactly how to lay his hand on so large a sum
as might be necessary, at a moment's notice. He was still under age, and
his allowance had not been calculated with a view to his buying
menageries. Moreover he considered that even if his pockets had been
full of bank notes, the idea was ridiculous, and he was rather ashamed
of his youthful impulse. It occurred to him that what was necessary for
the picture was not the carcase of the tiger but the skin, and he
remembered that such a skin lay on the floor in his father's private
room--the spoil of the animal Giovanni Saracinesca had shot in his
youth. It had been well cared for and was a fine specimen.

"Palazzo Saracinesca," he said to the cabman.

Now it chanced, as such things will chance in the inscrutable ways of
fate, that Sant' Ilario was just then in that very room and busy with
his correspondence. Orsino had hoped to carry off what he wanted,
without being questioned, in order to save time, but he now found
himself obliged to explain his errand.

Sant' Ilario looked, up in some surprise as his son entered.

"Well, Orsino? Is anything the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing serious, father. I want to borrow your tiger's skin for
Gouache. Will you lend it to me?"

"Of course. But