eir masterpieces have been labelled, are for the most part
utterly at sea among them! No doubt this one has suffered a little, but a
simple cleaning would make a marvel, a famous picture of it, for which a
museum would at least give--"

He abruptly stopped, completing his sentence with a wave of the hand and
not mentioning the figure which was on his lips. And then, as Victorine
came in followed by Giacomo to lay the little table for Pierre's supper,
he turned his back upon the Botticelli and said no more about it. The
young priest's attention was aroused, however, and he could well divine
what was passing in the other's mind. Under that make-believe Florentine,
all angelicalness, there was an experienced business man, who well knew
how to look after his pecuniary interests and was even reported to be
somewhat avaricious. Pierre, who was aware of it, could not help smiling
therefore when he saw him take his stand before another picture--a
frightful Virgin, badly copied from some eighteenth-century canvas--and
exclaim: "Dear me! that's not at all bad! I've a friend, I remember, who
asked me to buy him some old paintings. I say, Victorine, now that Donna
Serafina and the Cardinal are left alone do you think they would like to
rid themselves of a few valueless pictures?"

The servant raised her arms as if to say that if it depended on her,
everything might be carried away. Then she replied: "Not to a dealer,
sir, on account of the nasty rumours which would at once spread about,
but I'm sure they would be happy to please a friend. The house costs a
lot to keep up, and money would be welcome."

Pierre then vainly endeavoured to persuade Narcisse to stay and sup with
him, but the young man gave his word of honour that he was expected
elsewhere and was even late. And thereupon he ran off, after pressing the
priest's hands and affectionately wishing him a good journey.

Eight o'clock was striking, and Pierre seated himself at the little
table, Victorine remaining to serve him after dismissing Giacomo, who had
brought the supper things upstairs in a basket. "The people here make me
wild," said the worthy woman after the other had gone, "they are so slow.
And besides, it's a pleasure for me to serve you your last meal, Monsieur
l'Abbe. I've had a little French dinner cooked for you, a _sole au
gratin_ and a roast fowl."

Pierre was touched by this attention, and pleased to have the company of
a compatriot whilst he partook of