no one. I have
never been here before. It is dull. This was my object," she added,
after a short pause. "When it is accomplished I will consider other
matters. I may be obliged to accompany their Royal Highnesses to Egypt
in January. That is next month, is it not?"

It was so very far from clear who the royal highnesses in question might
be, that Orsino glanced at Gouache, to see whether he understood. But
Gouache was imperturbable.

"January, Madame, follows December," he answered. "The fact is confirmed
by the observations of many centuries. Even in my own experience it has
occurred forty-seven times in succession."

Orsino laughed a little, and as Madame d'Aragona's eyes met his, the red
lips smiled, without parting.

"He is always laughing at me," she said pleasantly.

Gouache was painting with great alacrity. The smile was becoming to her
and he caught it as it passed. It must be allowed that she permitted it
to linger, as though she understood his wish, but as she was looking at
Orsino, he was pleased.

"If you will permit me to say it, Madame," he observed, "I have never
seen eyes like yours."

He endeavoured to lose himself in their depths as he spoke. Madame
d'Aragona was not in the least annoyed by the remark, nor by the look.

"What is there so very unusual about my eyes?" she enquired. The smile
grew a little more faint and thoughtful but did not disappear.

"In the first place, I have never seen eyes of a golden-yellow colour."

"Tigers have yellow eyes," observed Madame d'Aragona.

"My acquaintance with that animal is at second hand--slight, to say the
least."

"You have never shot one?"

"Never, Madame. They do not abound in Rome--nor even, I believe, in
Albano. My father killed one when he was a young man."

"Prince Saracinesca?"

"Sant' Ilario. My grandfather is still alive."

"How splendid! I adore strong races."

"It is very interesting," observed Gouache, poking the stick of a brush
into the eye of his picture. "I have painted three generations of the
family, I who speak to you, and I hope to paint the fourth if Don Orsino
here can be cured of his cynicism and induced to marry Donna--what is
her name?" He turned to the young man.

"She has none--and she is likely to remain nameless," answered Orsino
gloomily.

"We will call her Donna Ignota," suggested Madame d'Aragona.

"And build altars to the unknown love," added Gouache.

Madame d'Aragona smiled faintly, but Orsino per