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Then he fumbled in his pockets again and found a photograph which he had also bought in the course of the day the photograph of Gouache's latest portrait, obtained in a contraband fashion and with some difficulty from the photographer.
The table of the small sitting-room was littered with letters and papers, books and drawings, so that an object placed in the midst of such disorder would not be likely to attract Gouache's attention. The door beyond was open, and showed a toilet-table in the adjoining chamber, which was indeed the bedroom.
"Stay!" exclaimed Donna Tullia; "I can go to confession another time. Will not you come with me to Gouache's studio? I am going to sit. It is such a bore to go alone." "Thank you very much," said Corona, civilly. "I am afraid I cannot go. My husband expects me at home. I wish you a good sitting." "Well, good-bye. Oh, I forgot to tell you, we had such a charming picnic yesterday.
The crowd which had impeded Gouache's progress was already thinning when Faustina reached the pavement. She was born and bred in Rome, and as a child, before the convent days, had been taken to walk many a time in the neighbourhood of Saint Peter's. She knew well enough where the Serristori barracks were situated, and turned at once towards Sant' Angelo.
"You cannot be serious for a moment." "It is very hard to paint you when your expression changes so often," replied Anastase, calmly. "I am not in a good humour for sitting to you this morning. I wish you would amuse me, Del Ferice. You generally can." "I thought politics amused you " "They interest me. But Gouache's ideas are detestable."
Gouache's wound was by no means dangerous, and when he had somewhat recovered from the combined effects of loss of blood and excessive fatigue he did not feel much the worse for having a ball in his shoulder.
I want a seat in one of the tribunes." The guide lost himself in apologies, but explained that he could not get what she desired. "What are you for?" she inquired. She was an indolent woman, but when by any chance she wanted anything, Donna Tullia herself was not more restless. She drove at once to Gouache's studio. He was alone and she told him what she needed. "The Jubilee, Madame?
Speak out!" he cried, advancing a step towards the old creature. "If you lie to me, I will kill you! She was here do not deny it." "Yes yes," answered the woman, cowering back in some terror. "Per carita! Don't murder me I tell you the truth." With a sudden movement Giovanni turned on his heel and entered Gouache's sitting-room.
You seem interested in the fate of the picture." "A little. I wondered why you did not have it here, as it has been finished so long." "Instead of that hideous mirror, you mean? There would be less variety. I should always see myself in the same dress." "No on the opposite wall. You might compare truth with fiction in that way." "To the advantage of Gouache's fiction, you would say.
Gouache bowed his head a little, and set to work again without a word. Del Ferice did not speak again during the sitting, but sat moodily staring at the canvas, at Donna Tullia, and at the floor. It was not often that he was moved from his habitual suavity of manner, but Gouache's conduct had made him feel particularly uncomfortable.
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