Orsino resumed his position and scowled at Anastase with a good will.

"Not quite such a terrible frown, perhaps," suggested the latter. "When
you do that, you certainly look like the gentleman who murdered the
Colonna in a street brawl--I forget how long ago. You have his portrait.
But I fancy the Princess would prefer--yes--that is more natural. You
have her eyes. How the world raved about her twenty years ago--and raves
still, for that matter."

"She is the most beautiful woman in the world," said Orsino. There was
something in the boy's unaffected admiration of his mother which
contrasted pleasantly with his youthful affectation of cynicism and
indifference. His handsome face lighted up a little, and the painter
worked rapidly.

But the expression was not lasting. Orsino was at the age when most
young men take the trouble to cultivate a manner, and the look of
somewhat contemptuous gravity which he had lately acquired was already
becoming habitual. Since all men in general have adopted the fashion of
the mustache, youths who are still waiting for the full crop seem to
have difficulty in managing their mouths. Some draw in their lips with
that air of unnatural sternness observable in rough weather among
passengers on board ship, just before they relinquish the struggle and
retire from public life. Others contract their mouths to the shape of a
heart, while there are yet others who lose control of the pendant lower
lip and are content to look like idiots, while expecting the hairy
growth which is to make them look like men. Orsino had chosen the least
objectionable idiosyncrasy and had elected to be of a stern countenance.
When he forgot himself he was singularly handsome, and Gouache lay in
wait for his moments of forgetfulness.