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At this moment a soft half…light pervaded the studio； but a parting
ray of the evening sunlight suddenly illuminated the spot where the
soldier sat； so that his noble； blanched face； his black hair； and his
clothes were bathed in its glow。 The effect was simple enough； but to
the girl's Italian imagination it was a happy omen。 The stranger
seemed to her a celestial messenger； speaking the language of her own
country。 He thus unconsciously put her under the spell of childhood's
memories； while in her heart there dawned another feeling as fresh； as
pure as her own innocence。 For a short； very short moment； she was
motionless and dreamy； as though she were plunged in boundless
thought。 Then she blushed at having allowed her absorption to be
noticed； exchanged one soft and rapid glance with the wounded man； and
fled with the vision of him still before her eyes。
The next day was not a class…day； but Ginevra came to the studio； and
the prisoner was free to sit beside her easel。 Servin； who had a
sketch to finish； played the part of mentor to the two young people；
who talked to each other chiefly in Corsican。 The soldier related the
sufferings of the retreat from Moscow； for； at nineteen years of age；
he had made the passage of the Beresins； and was almost the last man
left of his regiment。 He described； in words of fire； the great
disaster of Waterloo。 His voice was music itself to the Italian girl。
Brought up as a Corsican； Ginevra was； in some sense； a child of
Nature； falseness was a thing unknown to her； she gave herself up
without reserve to her impressions； she acknowledged them； or； rather；
allowed them to be seen without the affectations of petty and
calculating coquetry； characteristic of Parisian girlhood。 During this
day she sat more than once with her palette in one hand； her brushes
in another； without touching a color。 With her eyes fastened on the
officer； and her lips slightly apart； she listened； in the attitude of
painting a stroke which was never painted。 She was not surprised to
see such softness in the eyes of the young man； for she felt that her
own were soft in spite of her will to keep them stern and calm。 After
periods like this she painted diligently； without raising her head；
for he was there； near her； watching her work。 The first time he sat
down beside her to contemplate her silently； she said； in a voice of
some emotion； after a long pause：
〃Does it amuse you to see me paint？〃
That day she learned that his name was Luigi。 Before separating； it
was agreed between them that if； on class…days when they could not see
each other； any important political event occurred； Ginevra was to
inform him by singing certain Corsican melodies then agreed upon。
The following day Mademoiselle Thirion informed all the members of the
class； under pledge of secrecy that Ginevra di Piombo had a lover； a
young man who came during the hours for the lesson； and concealed
himself in the garret beyond the studio。
〃You； who take her part；〃 she said to Mademoiselle Roguin； 〃watch her
carefully； and you will see how she spends her time。〃
Ginevra was； therefore； observed with diabolical attention。 They
listened to her songs； they watched her glances。 At times； when she
supposed that no one saw her； a dozen pairs of eyes were furtively
upon her。 Thus enlightened； the girls were able to interpret truly the
emotions that crossed the features of the beautiful Italian；her
gestures； the peculiar tones in which she hummed a tune； and the
attention with which they saw her listen to sounds which only she
could hear through the partition。
By the end of a week； Laure was the only one of Servin's fifteen
pupils who had resisted the temptation of looking at Luigi through the
crevice of the partition； and she； through an instinct of weakness；
still defended her beautiful friend。 Mademoiselle Roguin endeavored to
make her wait on the staircase after the class dispersed； that she
might prove to her the intimacy of Ginevra and the young man by
entering the studio and surprising them together。 But Laure refused to
condescend to an act of espial which no curiosity could justify； and
she consequently became the object of much reprobation。
Before long Mademoiselle Thirion made known that she thought it
improper to attend the classes of a painter whose opinions were
tainted with patriotism and Bonapartism （in those days the terms were
synonymous）； and she ceased her attendance at the studio。 But；
although she herself forgot Ginevra； the harm she had planted bore
fruit。 Little by little； the other young girls revealed to their
mothers the strange events which were happening at the studio。 One day
Matilde Roguin did not come； the next day another girl was missing；
and so on； till the last three or four who were left came no more。
Ginevra and Laure； her little friend； were the sole occupants of the
deserted studio for three or four days。
Ginevra did not observe this falling off； nor ask the cause of her
companions' absence。 As soon as she had invented means of
communication with Luigi she lived in the studio in a delightful
solitude； alone amid her own world； thinking only of the officer and
the dangers that threatened him。 Though a sincere admirer of noble
characters that never betray their political faiths； she nevertheless
urged Luigi to submit himself to the royal authority； that he might be
released from his present life and remain in France。 But to this he
would not consent。 If passions are born and nourished； as they say；
under the influence of romantic causes； never did so many
circumstances of that kind concur in uniting two young souls by one
and the same sentiment。 The friendship of Ginevra for Luigi and that
of Luigi for Ginevra made more progress in a month than a friendship
in society would make in ten years。 Adversity is the touchstone of
character。 Ginevra was able； therefore； to study Luigi； to know him；
and before long they mutually esteemed each other。 The girl； who was
older than Luigi； found a charm in being courted by a youth already so
grand； so tried by fate；a youth who joined to the experience of a
man the graces of adolescence。 Luigi； on his side； felt an unspeakable
pleasure in allowing himself to be apparently protected by a woman；
now twenty…five years of age。 Was it not a proof of love？ The union of
gentleness and pride； strength and weakness in Ginevra were； to him；
irresistible attractions； and he was utterly subjugated by her。 In
short； before long； they loved each other so profoundly that they felt
no need of denying to each other their love； nor yet of telling it。
One day； towards evening； Ginevra heard the accustomed signal。 Luigi
scratched with a pin on the woodwork in a manner that produced no more
noise than a spider might make as he fastened his thread。 The signal
meant that he wished to come out of his retreat。
Ginevra glanced around the studio； and not seeing Laure； opened the
door； but as she did so Luigi caught sight of the little pupil and
abruptly retired。 Surprised at his action； Ginevra looked round； saw
Laure； and said； as she went up to the girl's easel：
〃You are staying late； my dear。 That head seems to me finished； you
only want a high…light；see！ on that knot of hair。〃
〃You would do me a great kindness；〃 said Laure； in a trembling voice；
〃if you would give this copy a few touches； for then I could carry
away with me something to remind me of you。〃
〃Willingly；〃 said Ginevra； painting a few strokes on the picture。 〃But
I thought it was a long way from your home to the studio； and it is
late。〃
〃Oh！ Ginevra； I am going away； never to return；〃 cried the poor girl；
sadly。
〃You mean to leave Monsieur Servin！〃 exclaimed Ginevra； less affected；
however； by this news than she would have been a month earlier。
〃Haven't you noticed； Ginevra； that for some days past you and I have
been alone in the studio？〃
〃True；〃 said Ginevra； as if struck by a sudden recollection。 〃Are all
those young ladies ill； or going to be married； or are their fathers
on duty at court？〃
〃They have left Monsieur Servin；〃 replied Laure。
〃Why？〃
〃On your account； Ginevra。〃
〃My account！〃 repeated the Corsican； springing up； with a threatening
brow and her eyes flashing。
〃Oh！ don't be angry； my kind Ginevra；〃 cried Laure； in deep distress。
〃My mother insists on my leaving the studio。 The young ladies say that
you have some intrigue； and that Monsieur Servin allows the young man
whom you love to stay in the dark attic。 I have never believed these
calumnies nor said a word to my mother about them。 But last night
Madame Roguin met her at a ball and asked her if she still sent me
here。 When my mother answered yes； Madame Roguin told her the
falsehoods of those young ladies。 Mamma scolded me severely； she said
I must have known it all； and that I had failed in prope