of an hour," said Anastase with a laugh. "A lady is coming, whose
portrait I am painting--an interesting woman--tolerably
beautiful--rather mysterious--here she is, you can have a good look at
her, before you make up your mind."

Anastase took the half-finished portrait of Orsino from the easel and
put another in its place, considerably further advanced in execution.
Orsino lit a cigarette in order to quicken his judgment, and looked at
the canvas.

The picture was decidedly striking and one felt at once that it must be
a good likeness. Gouache was evidently proud of it. It represented a
woman, who was certainly not yet thirty years of age, in full dress,
seated in a high, carved chair against a warm, dark background. A mantle
of some sort of heavy, claret-coloured brocade, lined with fur, was
draped across one of the beautiful shoulders, leaving the other bare,
the scant dress of the period scarcely breaking the graceful lines from
the throat to the soft white hand, of which the pointed fingers hung
carelessly over the carved extremity of the arm of the chair. The lady's
hair was auburn, her eyes distinctly yellow. The face was an unusual one
and not without attraction, very pale, with a full red mouth too wide
for perfect beauty, but well modelled--almost too well, Gouache thought.
The nose was of no distinct type, and was the least significant feature
in the face, but the forehead was broad and massive, the chin soft,
prominent and round, the brows much arched and divided by a vertical
shadow which, in the original, might be the first indication of a tiny
wrinkle. Orsino fancied that one eye or the other wandered a very
little, but he could not tell which--the slight defect made the glance
disquieting and yet attractive. Altogether it was one of those faces
which to one man say too little, and to another too much.