"There is none like it in Venice!" she exclaimed; "nor hath there ever
been. Thou hast treated me like a queen, my Marco!"
"I wished it so," he answered impatiently, for he could not wait. "And
the face----"
"Never hath there been a more exquisite! It is the Titian's work?"
"Nay, of the Veronese; for the goblet is of mine own designing. And the
master, for my sake, hath spent himself upon the face."
"He will be here to-night, and we will thank him," she answered
graciously. "And for thee--thou hast excelled thyself."
But Marcantonio answered nothing to her praise; his eyes were fixed upon
the miniature of the Veronese.
"If Paolo Cagliari findeth none so beautiful among the noble damigelle
who will grace thy fete to-night as this face which he hath painted, we
will forgive him," she said playfully. "But thee, Marco, we will not
forgive. The time hath come when thou shouldst choose; thy father and I
have spoken of this."
She came close to him and folded his hand caressingly. "The Contessa
Beata Tagliapietra hath a wonderful charm; and there is the Lady
Agnesina Contarini--a face for a Titian!"
"Mother! I pray thee----" Marcantonio interrupted.
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