nothing in form, wanted everything in colour.
That look, of health, which is the essential
crowning-point of beauty, was the one
attraction which her face did not possess.

She came into the room with a sad and
weary expression in her eyes, which changed,
however, the moment she observed the
magnificently-dressed French furewoman, into a
look of astonishment, and almost of awe. Her
manner became shy and embarrassed; and
after an instant of hesitation, she turned back
silently to the door.

"Stop, stop, Nanina," said Brigida, in
Italian. " Don't be afraid of that lady. She
is our new forewoman; and she has it in her
power to do all sorts of kind things for you.
Look up, and tell us what you want. You
were sixteen last birth-day, Nanina, and , you
behave like a baby of two years old!"

'' I only came to know if there was any
work for me to-day," said the girl, in a very
sweet voice, that trembled a little as she tried
to face the fashionable French forewoman
again.

"No work, child, that is easy enough for
you to do," said Brigida. " Are you going to
the studio to-day?"

Some of the colour that Nanina's cheeks
wanted began to steal over them as she
answered " Yes."

"Don't forget my message, darling. And
if Master Luca Lomi asks where I live,
answer that you are ready to deliver a letter
to me; but that you are forbidden to enter
into any particulars, at first, about who I am,
or where I live."

"Why am I forbidden? " inquired Nanina,
innocently.

"Don't ask questions, Baby! Do as you
are told. Bring me back a nice note or
message to-morrow from the studio, and I will
intercede with this lady to get you some work.
You are a foolish child to want it, when you
might make more money, here and at
Florence, by sitting to painters and sculptors;
though what they can see to paint or model
in you I never could understand."

"I like working at home, better than going
abroad to sit,': said Nanina, looking very
much abashed as she faltered out the answer,
and escaping from the room with a terrified
farewell obeisance, which was an eccentric
compound of a start, a bow, and a curtsey.

"That awkward child would be pretty,"
said Mademoiselle Virginie, making rapid
progress with the cutting out of her dress, "if
she knew how to give herself a complexion,
and had a presentable gown on her back.
Who is she?"

"The friend who is to get me into Master
Luca Lorni's studio," replied Brigida, laughing.
"Rather a curious ally for me to take
up with, isn't she ?"

"Where did you meet with her?"
"Here, to be sure. She hangs about this
place for any plain work she can get to do;
and takes it home to the oddest little room in
a street near the Campo Santo. I had the
curiosity to follow her one day, and knocked
at her door soon after she had gone in, as if I
was a visitor. She answered my knock in a
great flurry and fright, as you may imagine.
I made myself agreeable, affected immense
interest in her affairs, and so got into her
room. Such a place! A mere corner of it
curtained off to make a bedroom. One chair,
one stool, one saucepan on the fire. Before
the hearth, the most grotesquely-hideous,
unshaven poodle-dog you ever saw; and on
the stool a fair little girl plaiting dinner-mats.
Such was the household— furniture and all
included. 'Where is your father?' I asked.—
' He ran away and left us, years ago,'
answers my awkward little friend who has
just left the room, speaking in that simple
way of hers, with all the composure in the
world. ' And your mother? '—' Dead.' She
went up to the little mat-plaiting girl, as she
gave that answer, and began playing with
her long flaxen hair. 'Your sister, I suppose,'
said I. ' What is her name ? '— ' They call
me La Biondella,' says the child, looking up
from her mat (La Biondella, Virginie, means
The Fair).— ' And why do you let that
great, shaggy, ill-looking brute lie before your
fireplace ? ' I asked. '—O! ' cried the little
mat-plaiter, ' that is our dear old dog,
Scarammuccia. He takes care of the house when
Nanina is not at home. He dances on his
hind legs, and jumps through a hoop, and
tumbles down dead when I cry Bang!
Scarammuccia followed us home one night, years
ago, and he has lived with us ever since. He
goes out everyday by himself, we can't tell
where, and generally returns licking his
chops, which makes us afraid that he is a
thief; but nobody finds him out, because he
is the cleverest dog that ever lived!—' The
child ran on in this way about the great beast
by the fireplace, till I was obliged to stop
her; while that simpleton Nanina stood by,
laughing and encouraging her. I asked them
a few more questions, which produced some
strange answers. They did not seem to know
of any relations of theirs in the world. The
neighbours in the house had helped them,
after their father ran away, until they were
old enough to help themselves; and they
did not seem to think there was anything in
the least wretched or pitiable in their way of
living. The last thing I heard when I left
them that day, was La Biondella crying
' Bang! ' then a bark, a thump on the floor,
and a scream of laughter. If it was not for
their dog I should go and see them oftener.
But the ill-conditioned beast has taken a
dislike to me, and growls and shows his teeth
whenever I come near him."

"The girl looked sickly when she came in
here. Is she always like that?"

"No. She has altered within the last
month. I suspect our interesting young
nobleman has produced an impression. The
oftener the girl has sat to him lately, the