shook her thick red hair and went
singing, and patting her shoulders in time with the tune, up and down
the room, so that the sparrows were frightened and fluttered out at the
window. Then she stood still for a long while and looked at the casts
and clay models around her on the walls; and seemed especially
interested in the half-finished marble bust. It reminded her again of
the stranger outside in the arbor, whose head sprung just so from his
stately shoulders. Finally she tired of this also; and besides, she
began to feel a little hungry. She found in the cupboard, behind her in
the corner to which the sculptor had directed her, a few rolls and an
opened bottle of red wine. There was all sorts of rubbish besides in
the cupboard; a masquerader's costume, pieces of gold-stamped leather
tapestry, of blue and red silk and brocade, with large flowers in their
patterns, and a saint's halo, cut out of paper and painted with
beautiful golden rays--that might have done service for a _tableau
vivant_, or some other profane purpose. The idle girl seized upon this
last, fastened it on her head with the two ribbons still attached to
it, and went again before the looking-glass, where she smiled and made
faces at her own reflection. Then she took a piece of blue damask out
of the pile of things, and threw it like a cloak over her white
shoulders. Her hair flowed freely over it, so that at a distance, when
one did not see her uncovered neck, she looked like a mediaeval madonna,
who had stepped out of her frame and had wandered into some merry
company. The girl thought herself very beautiful, and quite worthy of
reverence in this disguise, and secretly congratulated herself on the
surprise and admiration of the sculptor, when he should find her so
dressed. That she might await his return more comfortably, she had
seated herself on the sofa, put a glass of wine on a chair beside her,
and begun to eat a roll. She had come across a portfolio of photographs
of celebrated pictures, and had laid it open in her lap, resting her
feet on the dog's back; and so she had sat now a full half-hour,
absorbed in looking at the pictures (which she found generally very
ugly), when the little door opened and Jansen again entered the room.

At the same moment she started as though shot up by a spring--so rudely
that the old dog, giving a low howl and shaking himself, also scrambled
up from his sleep.

She had seen the young stranger enter behind the sc