amount of gentle interest in the state of
Salviati's heart; but you don't think I am such a
marplot, such a traitor in the camp, as to carry
such tales to a man's wife, at all events to such a
wife as that odious Veronica! As you truly say,
she is no gentle Tuscan, neither one of us, nor
tolerated by us. She is a black ugly blot on the
surface of our gay and laughter-loving world, a
proud, gloomy, jealous, bitter-minded, detestable
woman! No, trust me, you will not find me, or
any one of us, in the least inclined to fight the
Duchess Veronica's battles."

"" In that case, I think I shall be able to gratify
your ladyship; but I am sure that the
amabilissima Signora Cecilia will not have been
offended, that I should have been cautious not to
let trouble arise out of matters that ought never
to pass out of the domain of light-hearted laugh
and jest, and mutual toleration. Say I well?"

"Excellently well! most amiable of philosophers!
And now, out with the secret! For I
am very sure that you can tell it me on the spot,
as well as a week hence."

"There is no deceiving your ladyship's
practised penetration!" said Carlini, with a profound
inclination. " Here it is then. Salviati's flame
for the nonce, is a certain Signora Canacci, who
lives in the Via dei Pilastri. The husband is
some seventy or eighty years old, I believe.
There has at least been no difficulty in the way
to stimulate the noble duke's ardour in the
chase."

"Ah! . . . . that is it, is it! Methinks I have
heard of that same Caterina Canacci. Of very
low origin, was she not, much below the position
of old Canacci, her husband; and something
miraculously beautiful, I think I have heard, eh?"
"Well! a pretty face enough! a very pretty
face! But what would you have? A mere doll!
Neither expression, manner, nor grace! How
should it be otherwise?"

"Now listen, Vincenzo mio! I have a fancy;
.... and you know perhaps that the shortest
and easiest way to have done with my fancies—
is to satisfy them. They are apt to become
troublesome, .... and sometimes even dangerous
otherwise. I must have a portrait of this
superlatively beautiful Caterina Canacci. And you
must manage to get me one, somehow or other.
It cannot be very difficult to a man of your
resources."

"Peerless Signora Cecilia, I am delighted to
have it in my power to satisfy you on that head
with the greatest readiness. It so happens that
among a few other souvenirs of the same sort, I
possess a portrait of the lady, in question. In
some cases, Signora Cecilia, the features of one
who has been loved, remain so graven on the
heart, that no painter's art is needed to make the
memory of them eternal. But La Caterina
poveretta! When one does not bring even a
scar on the heart away to remember a love-
passage by, why, a touch of the artist's craft may
serve as a memorial of what otherwise would be
wholly forgotten.

"Aha! friend Vincenzo! So you were before-
hand in Casa Canacci with our poor friend
Jacopo, eh?"

"Signora Contessa! The grandees of the court
have an infinity of advantages over us poor
simple cavalieri. But always to be first served
at the shrine of beauty is not among the number,
at least in Tuscany." The falseness of this boast
the reader knows.

"Bravo! Signore Cavaliere Vincenzo! When
shall I have the portrait?"

"Within an hour after I quit the gracious
presence of your ladyship. Shall I return with
it, and myself consign it to your fair hands?"

"Nay! that would be trespassing too much
on your kindness. Let it be given in a sealed
envelope to my maid—you won't have forgotten
Geppina—she can be trusted, as you know; and
it will be all well."

"Your ladyship shall be punctually served,"
said Carlini, as he stooped to kiss the lady's
hand. " May I hope," he added, rather hesitatingly,
but looking into her eyes the while—" may
I hope, that sometimes in the dull evenings
between this and the beginning of Carnival, I may
sometimes have the honour of an hour of your
society?"

"To be sure! why not? my very good friend,
Signore Vincenzo. Just at present, it is true, I
am much occupied. But you shall hear from me.
You may depend on hearing from me, as soon as
I am able to permit myself the pleasure of a
visit from you."

Carlini bowed again and took his leave,
perfectly well understanding that there was to be
no renewal of the terms on which he and the
Contessa Cecilia had once been together; and
that the treacherous signature to her note had
been merely a lure to obtain from him what she
wanted. They were not blessings on the head
of his old friend, which he invoked as he passed
out of the little postern into the alley, and from
that into the Via Maggio, which was the site of
the Palazzo dei Neri. But it was no part of
Signor Vincenzo Carlini's philosophy to permit
little disappointments of this nature to " pass,"
as he had phrased it, "from the domain of smiles
and laughter," into the region of serious troubles
and heart-burnings. More specially still, it was
wholly contrary to his practice to quarrel with
those above him on the wheel of fortune. It
appeared to him the same thing as quarrelling with
his bread-and-butter, or, more absurdly still, with
the chances of having butter on his bread. So
the Lady Cecilia had Caterina's portrait in her
hands within an hour from the time Signor
Carlini left her.

When the Contessa Cecilia had first conceived
the idea of making use of her old acquaintance,
Vincenzo Carlini, for the purpose of finding out
what was really at the bottom of the change
which all the court circle had observed in the
Duca di San Giuliano, she had merely been
actuated by a woman's curiosity to know the
person of her rival. She had listened to all the