y physician,
even if my life is in danger.

I went with Aniela and my aunt to Angeli's studio. The first sitting
took place to-day. How right I was in saying that she is one of the
most beautiful women I ever met in life, because there is nothing
commonplace in her beauty. Angeli looked at her with manifest
pleasure, as if he had before him a noble piece of art. He was in
excellent spirits, drew the outline with enthusiasm, and did not
conceal at all the reason of his satisfaction. "In my profession," he
said, "a model like this is very rare indeed. With such a sitter it is
delightful to work. What a face! what expression!"

The expression was by no means so charming as usual, because Aniela is
a shy little creature; she felt confused, bewildered, and it evidently
cost her an effort to keep a natural pose. Angeli understood that.

"It will be easier the next time," he said; "like everything else, one
must get accustomed to it." And he repeated several times: "This will
be something like a portrait."

He looked also with a pleased countenance at my aunt, who has noble
features and a singularly commanding presence. The way she met Angeli
was in itself a treat. It was the off-hand manner of the _grande
dame_, always in good taste, but evidently not making much of him.
Angeli, who is used to flattery and homage, and at the same time
a clever man, judged her aright, and I saw he was amused by her
demeanor.

We had decided upon a black silk dress, very elegantly made. It shows
off Aniela's figure to perfection, its suppleness and rounded curves.
I can neither think nor write about it calmly. Angeli, addressing
Aniela, repeatedly called her "Mademoiselle." Feminine nature, even an
angelic one, has still its little weaknesses. I noticed that my dear
love was pleased, and still more so when I told Angeli of his mistake,
and he said:--

"But I shall always fall into the same mistake; looking at madame it
is impossible not to make the mistake."

And indeed with those vivid blushes mantling in her face she was
surpassingly lovely.

On our way out, when a little distance from my aunt, I whispered to
Aniela:--

"Aniela, do you know yourself how beautiful you are?"

She did not say anything, but lowered her eyelashes, as she always
does in such a case. Nevertheless, I noticed that during the rest
of the day there was a shade of unconscious coquetry in her manner
towards me. Angeli's words and mine had attuned her to that