their weariness. No expression of regret or melancholy
obscured the happy features of the young wife, and never did she utter a
complaint. She appeared to her Luigi with a smile upon her lips and her
eyes beaming. Each cherished a ruling thought which would have made them
take pleasure in a labor still more severe; Ginevra said in her heart
that she worked for Luigi, and Luigi the same for Ginevra.

Sometimes, in the absence of her husband, the thought of the perfect
happiness she might have had if this life of love could have been lived
in the presence of her father and mother overcame the young wife;
and then, as she felt the full power of remorse, she dropped
into melancholy; mournful pictures passed like shadows across her
imagination; she saw her old father alone, or her mother weeping in
secret lest the inexorable Piombo should perceive her tears. The two
white, solemn heads rose suddenly before her, and the thought came that
never again should she see them except in memory. This thought pursued
her like a presentiment.

She celebrated the anniversary of her marriage by giving her husband a
portrait he had long desired,--that of his Ginevra, painted by herself.
Never had the young artist done so remarkable a work. Aside from the
resemblance, the glow of her beauty, the purity of her feelings,
the happiness of love were there depicted by a sort of magic. This
masterpiece of her art and her joy was a votive offering to their wedded
felicity.

Another year of ease and comfort went by. The history of their life may
be given in three words: _They were happy._ No event happened to them of
sufficient importance to be recorded.

CHAPTER VI. RETRIBUTION

At the beginning of the year 1819 the picture-dealers requested Ginevra
to give them something beside copies; for competition had so increased
that they could no longer sell her work to advantage. Madame Porta then
perceived the mistake she had made in not exercising her talent
for "genre" painting, which might, by this time, have brought her
reputation. She now attempted portrait-painting. But here she was forced
to compete against a crowd of artists in greater need of money than
herself. However, as Luigi and Ginevra had laid by a few savings, they
were not, as yet, uneasy about the future.

Toward the end of the winter of that year Luigi worked without
intermission. He, too, was struggling against competitors. The payment
for writing had so decreased that