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Updated: June 8, 2025
"It should do so!" and Varillo set the little Japanese dog carefully down on the floor, whereupon it ran straight to its mistress, uttering tiny cries of joy, "There is no sweeter triumph for a woman than to see men subjugated by her smile, and intimidated by her frown; to watch them burning themselves like moths in her clear flame, and dying at her feet for love of her!
"How charming of her!" laughed Sylvie, "And so exceptional a thing to do, is it not? My dressmaker does the same thing, she 'supports' her family; but respectably! And just think! if ever your right hand loses its cunning as a painter, Angela will be able to 'support' YOU!" "Always Angela!" muttered Varillo, beginning to sulk, "Cannot you talk of something else?" "No, not for the moment!
"A man like you with a dozen secret intrigues in Rome, should surely be able to grasp a situation better! Angela Sovrani lives, I tell you, I am here to help you to kill her more surely! Your first attempt was clumsy, and dangerous to yourself, but murder her reputation, amico, murder her reputation! and so build up your own!" Slowly Varillo turned his eyes upon him.
Gherardi returned to the studio and resumed his confidential talk with Bonpre, while one by one the visitors departed, till at last the only persons left in the vast room were Angela and Florian Varillo, Prince Pietro, and the two dignitaries of the Church.
Florian Varillo studied her appreciatively in this regard after he had uttered his little meaningless melody of sentiment, and thought within himself "A week or two and I could completely conquer that woman!" He was mistaken men who think these sort of things often are. But the thought satisfied him, and gave bold lustre to his eyes and brightness to his smile when he rose to take his leave.
"And when so great a personage of the Church is a renegade, he incurs two punishments the punishment of God and the punishment of the Church! The one comes first the other comes afterwards! Buena notte!" And throwing down the money for his refreshment, Gherardi cast another glance around him, muffled himself up in his coat and went out into the night. Florian Varillo breathed again.
If she knew all I know of him, she would rather embrace the mildewy skeleton of San Carlo Borromeo, with the great jewels glistening in his ghastly eye-sockets, than the well-fed, fresh coloured Florian Varillo!" "If you fear for her happiness, why not warn her?" asked Aubrey. "Warn her against the one creature she loves in the world?" said the Princesse, "Thanks very much! I would rather not.
It is a problem worth thinking of!" Varillo looked sharply at her. Had she heard anything of his private life in Rome? a life he kept carefully concealed from everyone who might be likely to report his little amusements at the Palazzo Sovrani?
"My word is law in Rome!" went on Gherardi "Whatsoever I choose to say will be confirmed and ratified by the greatest authority in the world the Pope! I am ready to swear that Florian Varillo painted that picture, and the Pope is ready to believe it! Who will admit such a masterpiece to be a woman's work? No one!
This matter dismissed from her mind she went to a portfolio full of sketches, and turned them over and over till she came to one dainty, small picture entitled, "Phillida et les Roses". It was a study of a woman's nude figure set among branching roses, and was signed "Florian Varillo". Angela looked at it long and earnestly, all the delicate flesh tints contrasting with the exquisite hues of red and white roses were delineated with wonderful delicacy and precision of touch, and there was a nymph-like grace and modesty about the woman's form and the drooping poise of her head, which was effective yet subtle in suggestion.
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