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invite her to sit for me！〃
〃'At lastat last'？〃 I repeated； in much amazement。 〃Do you mean
that she has never done so yet？〃
〃I have not really hadaa sitting；〃 said Theobald； speaking very
slowly。 〃I have taken notes； you know； I have got my grand
fundamental impression。 That's the great thing！ But I have not
actually had her as a model； posed and draped and lighted； before my
easel。〃
What had become for the moment of my perception and my tact I am at a
loss to say； in their absence I was unable to repress a headlong
exclamation。 I was destined to regret it。 We had stopped at a
turning； beneath a lamp。 〃My poor friend；〃 I exclaimed； laying my
hand on his shoulder； 〃you have DAWDLED！ She's an old； old woman
for a Madonna！〃
It was as if I had brutally struck him； I shall never forget the
long； slow； almost ghastly look of pain； with which he answered me。
〃Dawdled？old； old？〃 he stammered。 〃Are you joking？〃
〃Why； my dear fellow； I suppose you don't take her for a woman of
twenty？〃
He drew a long breath and leaned against a house； looking at me with
questioning； protesting； reproachful eyes。 At last； starting
forward； and grasping my arm〃Answer me solemnly： does she seem to
you truly old？ Is she wrinkled； is she faded； am I blind？〃
Then at last I understood the immensity of his illusion how； one by
one； the noiseless years had ebbed away and left him brooding in
charmed inaction； for ever preparing for a work for ever deferred。
It seemed to me almost a kindness now to tell him the plain truth。
〃I should be sorry to say you are blind；〃 I answered； 〃but I think
you are deceived。 You have lost time in effortless contemplation。
Your friend was once young and fresh and virginal； but； I protest；
that was some years ago。 Still； she has de beaux restes。 By all
means make her sit for you！〃 I broke down； his face was too horribly
reproachful。
He took off his hat and stood passing his handkerchief mechanically
over his forehead。 〃De beaux restes？ I thank you for sparing me the
plain English。 I must make up my Madonna out of de beaux restes！
What a masterpiece she will be！ Oldold！ Oldold！〃 he murmured。
〃Never mind her age；〃 I cried； revolted at what I had done； 〃never
mind my impression of her！ You have your memory； your notes； your
genius。 Finish your picture in a month。 I pronounce it beforehand a
masterpiece； and I hereby offer you for it any sum you may choose to
ask。〃
He stared； but he seemed scarcely to understand me。 〃Oldold！〃 he
kept stupidly repeating。 〃If she is old； what am I？ If her beauty
has faded； wherewhere is my strength？ Has life been a dream？ Have
I worshipped too longhave I loved too well？〃 The charm； in truth；
was broken。 That the chord of illusion should have snapped at my
light accidental touch showed how it had been weakened by excessive
tension。 The poor fellow's sense of wasted time； of vanished
opportunity； seemed to roll in upon his soul in waves of darkness。
He suddenly dropped his head and burst into tears。
I led him homeward with all possible tenderness； but I attempted
neither to check his grief； to restore his equanimity； nor to unsay
the hard truth。 When we reached my hotel I tried to induce him to
come so。
〃We will drink a glass of wine；〃 I said； smiling； 〃to the completion
of the Madonna。〃
With a violent effort he held up his head； mused for a moment with a
formidably sombre frown； and then giving me his hand； 〃I will finish
it；〃 he cried； 〃in a month！ No； in a fortnight！ After all； I have
it HERE！〃 And he tapped his forehead。 〃Of course she's old！ She
can afford to have it said of hera woman who has made twenty years
pass like a twelvemonth！ Oldold！ Why； sir； she shall be eternal！〃
I wished to see him safely to his own door； but he waved me back and
walked away with an air of resolution； whistling and swinging his
cane。 I waited a moment； and then followed him at a distance； and
saw him proceed to cross the Santa Trinita Bridge。 When he reached
the middle he suddenly paused； as if his strength had deserted him；
and leaned upon the parapet gazing over into the river。 I was
careful to keep him in sight； I confess that I passed ten very
nervous minutes。 He recovered himself at last； and went his way；
slowly and with hanging head。
That I had really startled poor Theobald into a bolder use of his
long…garnered stores of knowledge and taste； into the vulgar effort
and hazard of production； seemed at first reason enough for his
continued silence and absence； but as day followed day without his
either calling or sending me a line； and without my meeting him in
his customary haunts； in the galleries； in the Chapel at San Lorenzo；
or strolling between the Arno side and the great hedge…screen of
verdure which； along the drive of the Cascine； throws the fair
occupants of barouche and phaeton into such becoming reliefas for
more than a week I got neither tidings nor sight of him； I began to
fear that I had fatally offended him； and that； instead of giving a
wholesome impetus to his talent； I had brutally paralysed it。 I had
a wretched suspicion that I had made him ill。 My stay at Florence
was drawing to a close； and it was important that； before resuming my
journey； I should assure myself of the truth。 Theobald； to the last；
had kept his lodging a mystery； and I was altogether at a loss where
to look for him。 The simplest course was to make inquiry of the
beauty of the Mercato Vecchio； and I confess that unsatisfied
curiosity as to the lady herself counselled it as well。 Perhaps I
had done her injustice； and she was as immortally fresh and fair as
be conceived her。 I was； at any rate； anxious to behold once more
the ripe enchantress who had made twenty years pass as a twelvemonth。
I repaired accordingly； one morning； to her abode； climbed the
interminable staircase； and reached her door。 It stood ajar； and as
I hesitated whether to enter； a little serving…maid came clattering
out with an empty kettle； as if she had just performed some savoury
errand。 The inner door； too； was open； so I crossed the little
vestibule and entered the room in which I had formerly been received。
It had not its evening aspect。 The table； or one end of it； was
spread for a late breakfast； and before it sat a gentlemanan
individual； at least； of the male sexdoing execution upon a
beefsteak and onions； and a bottle of wine。 At his elbow； in
friendly proximity； was placed the lady of the house。 Her attitude；
as I entered； was not that of an enchantress。 With one hand she held
in her lap a plate of smoking maccaroni； with the other she had
lifted high in air one of the pendulous filaments of this succulent
compound； and was in the act of slipping it gently down her throat。
On the uncovered end of the table； facing her companion； were ranged
half a dozen small statuettes； of some snuff… coloured substance
resembling terra…cotta。 He； brandishing his knife with ardour； was
apparently descanting on their merits。
Evidently I darkened the door。 My hostess dropped liner maccaroni
into her mouth； and rose hastily with a harsh exclamation and a
flushed face。 I immediately perceived that the Signora Serafina's
secret was even better worth knowing than I had supposed； and that
the way to learn it was to take it for granted。 I summoned my best
Italian； I smiled and bowed and apologised for my intrusion； and in a
moment； whether or no I had dispelled the lady's irritation； I had at
least stimulated her prudence。 I was welcome； she said； I must take
a seat。 This was another friend of hersalso an artist； she
declared with a smile which was almost amiable。 Her companion wiped
his moustache and bowed with great civility。 I saw at a glance that
he was equal to the situation。 He was presumably the author of the
statuettes on the table； and he knew a money…spending forestiere when
he saw one。 He was a small wiry man； with a clever； impudent；
tossed…up nose； a sharp little black eye； and waxed ends to his
moustache。 On the side of his head he wore jauntily a little crimson
velvet smoking…cap； and I observed that his feet were encased in
brilliant slippers。 On Serafina's remarking with dignity that I was
the friend of Mr。 Theobald； he broke out into that fantastic French
of which certain Italians are so insistently lavish； and declared
with fervour that Mr。 Theobald was a magnificent genius。
〃I am sure I don't know；〃 I answered with a shrug。 〃If you are in a
position to affirm it； you have the advantage of me。 I have seen
nothing from his hand but the bambino yonder； which certainly is
fine。〃
He declared that the bambino was a masterpiece； a pure Corregio。 It
was only a pity； he added with a knowing laugh； that the sketch had
not been made on some good bit of honeycombed old panel。 The stately
Serafina hereupon protested