avus Adolphus, with her square face and
red cheeks, her disagreeable eyes and her black wig, her short green
skirt and her mannish bearing. She was forty-four years old at that
time. The fine-looking old man was Bernini, the sculptor; at her elbow,
and not much above it in height, stood a misshapen youth with the face
of a sad angel, the poet Guidi; he was evidently pained and disgusted by
the lecture. Three other gentlemen stood at a little distance behind the
Queen, but there was nothing to distinguish them from ninety-nine out of
a hundred other fine gentlemen of fashionable society who wore extremely
good coats, cut and curled their hair in the latest style, and proved
that they were not absolute fools by holding their tongues when men like
Bernini or Guidi were speaking.

At the sharp click of Ortensia's little heels on the stone pavement the
Queen turned her head and instantly recognised Stradella, who bowed low
as she nodded to him, and extended her hand in a gesture that bade him
wait. He had no choice, and she looked at the picture again and listened
with evident satisfaction to the great sculptor's explanation of the
unpleasant subject. Guidi, however, tried not to hear; he also knew
Stradella, who had set some of his verses to music, and he exchanged a
glance of intelligence with him, wondering who his lady companion might
be.

Stradella was already bending to whisper in her ear and tell her who the
lady was, and that it was impossible to run away. Ortensia had never
seen a queen before, and looked at her critically. Queen Christina, she
thought, was anything but a fine-looking woman, though she looked
intelligent, and Ortensia remembered scores of Venetian ladies who were
much more queenly in appearance.

When Bernini had brought his poor little martyr to her last gasp, he
added that, while he declined to disparage the work of a late
fellow-artist, he considered Pomarancio's paintings beneath criticism;
he then paused and took snuff. The Queen smiled sarcastically at his
last words.

'Without speaking well of you, Cavaliere,' she said, 'I consider you as
agreeable as you are famous.'

Bernini shut his snuff-box with a sharp snap and bowed low, though he
quite understood the rebuke. Meanwhile Stradella led Ortensia forward,
and the Queen turned to them as they came up.

'I am overjoyed to see you, Maestro,' she said, graciously giving him
her hand to kiss while he touched the ground with one knee, and