last act, and waited for her at the stage door to take
her to dinner.

Renovales was gnawed with impatience, unable to find a way to meet her.
Every night he sent his little baskets of flowers, or huge bouquets. The
"star" must be informed whence these gifts came, for she looked around
the audience for the ugly elderly gentleman, deigning to grant him a
smile.

One night the master saw Lopez de Sosa speak to the singer. Perhaps his
son-in-law was acquainted with her. And boldly as a lover, he waited for
him when he came out to implore his help.

He wanted to paint her; she was a magnificent model for a certain work
he had in mind. He said it blushingly, stammering, but Lopez laughed at
his timidity and seemed disposed to protect him.

"Oh, Pepita? A wonderful woman, in spite of the fact that she is on the
decline. With all her school-girl face, if you could only see her at a
party! She drinks like a fish. She's a terror!"

But afterwards, with a serious expression, he explained the
difficulties. She "belonged" to one of his friends, a lad from the
provinces who, eager to win notoriety, was losing one-half his fortune
gambling at the Casino and was calmly letting that girl devour the other
half,--she gave him some reputation. He would speak to her; they were
old friends; nothing wrong--eh, father? It would not be hard to persuade
her. This Pepita had a predilection for anything that was unusual; she
was rather--romantic. He would explain to her who the great artist was,
enhancing the honor of acting as his model.

"Don't stint on the money," said the master anxiously. "All that she
wants. Don't be afraid to be generous."

One morning Renovales called Cotoner to talk to him with wild
expressions of joy.

"She's going to come! She's going to come this very afternoon!"

The old painter looked surprised.

"Who?"

"The 'Bella Fregolina.' Pepita. My son-in-law tells me he has persuaded
her. She will come this afternoon at three. He is coming with her
himself."

Then he cast a worried glance at his workshop. For some time it had been
deserted; it must be set in order.

And the servant on one side and the two artists on the other, began to
tidy up the room hastily.

The portraits of Josephina and the canvas with nothing but her head were
piled up in a corner by the master's feverish hands. What was the use of
those phantoms when the real thing was going to appear. In their place
he put a large white canvas, g