. (_Exit_ Servant.) My dear Countess! (_with sarcasm,
as he takes up the letter_) as good as read (_throwing it down again_).
Well, well, I fancied I loved her--one may fancy anything. It may be
that I really did love her. But--I did.

_Re-enter_ Servant.

SERVANT.

The painter Conti requests the honour----

PRINCE.

Conti? Good! admit him. That will change the current of my thoughts
(_rising_).

Scene II.

Conti, _The_ Prince.

PRINCE.

Good morning, Conti. How goes it with you? How does art thrive?

CONTI.

Art is starving, Prince.

PRINCE.

That must not--shall not be, within the limits of my small dominions.
But the artist must be willing to work.

CONTI.

Work! that is his happiness. But too much work may rain his claim to
the title of artist.

PRINCE.

I do not mean that his works should be many, but his labour much: a
little, but well done. But you do not come empty-handed, Conti?

CONTI.

I have brought the portrait which your Highness ordered; and another
which you did not order; but as it is worthy of inspection----

PRINCE.

That one, is it? And yet I do not well remember----

CONTI.

The Countess Orsina.

PRINCE.

True. The commission, however, was given rather long ago.

CONTI.

Our beauties are not every day at the artist's command. In three
months, the Countess could only make up her mind to sit once.

PRINCE.

Where are the pictures?

CONTI.

In the antechamber. I will fetch them (_exit_).

Scene III.

PRINCE.

Her portrait! Let it come; it is not herself. But perhaps I may see in
the picture what I can no longer find in her person. But I have no wish
to make such a discovery. The importunate painter! I almost believe
that she has bribed him. But even were it so, if another picture which
is pourtrayed in brighter colours and on a different canvas, could be
obliterated