ind you not the words? What avails your
art without the words? I doubt you are an impostor, Gerardo."

"Nay, Signora, I am none. I might make shift to put your highness's
speech into grammar, as well as writing. But I cannot interpret your
silence. Therefore speak what is in your heart, and I will empaper it
before your eyes."

"But there is nothing in my heart. And sometimes I think I have got no
heart."

"What is in your mind, then?"

"But there is nothing in my mind; nor my head neither."

"Then why write at all?"

"Why, indeed? That is the first word of sense either you or I have
spoken, Gerardo. Pestilence seize him! why writeth he not first? then I
could say nay to this, and ay to that, withouten headache. Also is it a
lady's part to say the first word?"

"No, signora: the last."

"It is well spoken, Gerardo. Ha! ha! Shalt have a gold piece for thy
wit. Give me my purse!" And she paid him for the article on the nail a
la moyen age. Money never yet chilled zeal. Gerard, after getting a gold
piece so cheap, felt bound to pull her out of her difficulty, if the wit
of man might achieve it. "Signorina," said he, "these things are only
hard because folk attempt too much, are artificial and labour phrases.
Do but figure to yourself the signor you love--"

"I love him not."

"Well, then, the signor you love not-seated at this table, and dict to
me just what you would say to him."

"Well, if he sat there, I should say, 'Go away.'"

Gerard, who was flourishing his pen by way of preparation, laid it down
with a groan.

"And when he was gone," said Floretta, "your highness would say, 'Come
back.'"

"Like enough, wench. Now silence, all, and let me think. He pestered me
to write, and I promised; so mine honour is engaged. What lie shall I
tell the Gerardo to tell the fool?" and she turned her head away from
them and fell into deep thought, with her noble chin resting on her
white hand, half clenched.

She was so lovely and statuesque, and looked so inspired with thoughts
celestial, as she sat thus, impregnating herself with mendacity, that
Gerard forgot all, except art, and proceeded eagerly to transfer that
exquisite profile to paper.

He had very nearly finished when the fair statue turned brusquely round
and looked at him.

"Nay, Signora," said he, a little peevishly; "for Heaven's sake change
not your posture--'twas perfect. See, you are nearly finished."

All eyes were instantly on the work, and a