held around him was the work of many years, there were abundant traces
of innovation and improvement. Some of the statues were recently placed,
and a small temple of Grecian architecture seemed to have been just
restored. A heavy curtain hung across the doorway; drawing back which,
the Duke entered what he at once perceived to be a sculptor's studio.
Casts and models lay carelessly about, and a newly begun group stood
enshrouded in the wetted drapery with which artists clothe their
unfinished labors. No mean artist himself, the Duke examined critically
the figures before him; nor was he long in perceiving that the artist
had committed more than one fault in drawing and proportion. "This is
amateur work," said he to himself; "and yet not without cleverness,
and a touch of genius too. Your dilettante scorns anatomy, and will not
submit to drudgery; hence, here are muscles incorrectly developed, and
their action ill expressed." So saying, he sat down before the model,
and taking up one of the tools at his side, began to correct some of the
errors in the work. It was exactly the kind of task for which his skill
adapted him. Too impatient and too discursive to accomplish anything of
his own, he was admirably fitted to correct the faults of another, and
so he worked away vigorously,--totally forgetting where he was, how he
had come there, and as utterly oblivious of Stubber, whom he had left
without. Growing more and more interested as he proceeded, he arose at
length to take a better view of what he had done, and, standing some
distance off, exclaimed aloud, "_Per Bacco!_ I have made a good thing of
it--there 's life in it now!"

"So indeed is there," cried a gentle voice behind him; and, turning, he
beheld a young and very beautiful girl, whose dress was covered by
the loose blouse of a sculptor. "How I thank you for this!" said she,
blushing deeply, as she courtesied before him. "I have had no teaching,
and never till this moment knew how much I needed it."

"And this is your work, then?" said the Duke, who turned again towards
the model. "Well, there is promise in it. There is even more. Still, you
have hard labor before you, if you would be really an artist. There is a
grammar in these things, and he who would speak the tongue must get over
the declensions. I know but little myself--"

"Oh, do not say so!" cried she, eagerly; "I feel that I am in a master's
presence."

The Duke started, partly struck by the energy of