master-sculptor, Luca Lomi. It was very short; simply informing her
that he had just returned to Pisa, and that he was anxious to know when
she could sit to him for a new bust--a commission from a rich foreigner
at Naples.

Nanina debated with herself for a moment whether she should answer the
letter in the hardest way, to her, by writing, or, in the easiest
way, in person; and decided on going to the studio and telling the
master-sculptor that it would be impossible for her to serve him as a
model, at least for some time to come. It would have taken her a long
hour to say this with due propriety on paper; it would only take her
a few minutes to say it with her own lips. So she put on her mantilla
again and departed for the studio.

On, arriving at the gate and ringing the bell, a thought suddenly
occurred to her, which she wondered had not struck her before. Was
it not possible that she might meet Father Rocco in his brother's
work-room? It was too late to retreat now, but not too late to ask,
before she entered, if the priest was in the studio. Accordingly, when
one of the workmen opened the door to her, she inquired first, very
confusedly and anxiously, for Father Rocco. Hearing that he was not with
his brother then, she went tranquilly enough to make her apologies to
the master-sculptor.

She did not think it necessary to tell him more than that she was now
occupied every day by nursing duties in a sick-room, and that it
was consequently out of her power to attend at the studio. Luca Lomi
expressed, and evidently felt, great disappointment at her failing him
as a model, and tried hard to persuade her that she might find time
enough, if she chose, to sit to him, as well as to nurse the sick
person. The more she resisted his arguments and entreaties, the more
obstinately he reiterated them. He was dusting his favorite busts and
statues, after his long absence, with a feather-brush when she came in;
and he continued this occupation all the while he was talking--urging
a fresh plea to induce Nanina to reconsider her refusal to sit at every
fresh piece of sculpture he came to, and always receiving the same
resolute apology from her as she slowly followed him down the studio
toward the door.

Arriving thus at the lower end of the room, Luca stopped with a fresh
argument on his lips before his statue of Minerva. He had dusted it
already, but he lovingly returned to dust it again. It was his favorite
work--the only go