her.
In another fortnight or so Dario's work will be finished, he will go
away, our young lady will shed secret tears and be downcast for a week.
Then another swain will please her, and she'll smile again. That, as I
take it, will be the natural order of events, unless," adds he, "that
natural order is disturbed by some external influence."

Maugre this sage advice, my concern being unabated, I would step pretty
frequently into the room where these young people were, as if to see how
the work was going forward, and with such a quick step that had any
interchange of amorous sentiments existed, I must at one time or another
have discovered it. But I never detected any sign of this--no bashful
silence, no sudden confusion, or covert interchange of glances.
Sometimes they would be chatting lightly, at others both would be
standing silent, she, maybe, holding a bunch of leaves with untiring
steadfastness, for him to copy. But I observed that she was exceedingly
jealous of his society, and no matter how glibly she was talking when I
entered, or how indifferent the subject, she would quickly become
silent, showing me very plainly by her manner that she would vastly
prefer my room to my company.

Still, I was not displeased when I perceived this fresco drawing near to
its completion.

"You are getting on apace," says I, very cheerfully one day. "I reckon
you will soon have done."

"Yes," answers he, "in a week I shall have nought to do but to pack up
my tools and go." There was an accent of sorrow in his voice, despite
himself, which did not escape me nor Moll neither, for I saw her cast
her eyes upon his face, as if to read if there were sadness there. But
she said never a word.

However, in the afternoon she comes to me, and says she:

"I am resolved I will have all the rooms in the house plastered, if
Signor Dario will consent to paint them."

"All the rooms!" says I, in alarm. "Surely you have not counted the cost
of what you propose."

"I suppose I have enough to keep my house in suitable condition."

"Without doubt, though I expect such work as Signor Dario's must command
a high price."

"All I ask of you, then," says she, "is to bid my steward have five
thousand pounds ready for my uses, and within a week, lest I should need
it suddenly. Should he raise objections--"

"As assuredly he will," says I, who knew the crafty, subtle character of
old Simon full well by, this time. "A thousand objections, and not