"Are you spending the winter in Rome, Madame?" he asked. He was
conscious that the question lacked originality, but no other presented
itself to him.

"The winter?" repeated Madame d'Aragona dreamily. "Who knows? I am here
at present, at the mercy of the great painter. That is all I know. Shall
I be here next month, next week? I cannot tell. I know no one. I have
never been here before. It is dull. This was my object," she added,
after a short pause. "When it is accomplished I will consider other
matters. I may be obliged to accompany their Royal Highnesses to Egypt
in January. That is next month, is it not?"

It was so very far from clear who the royal highnesses in question might
be, that Orsino glanced at Gouache, to see whether he understood. But
Gouache was imperturbable.

"January, Madame, follows December," he answered. "The fact is confirmed
by the observations of many centuries. Even in my own experience it has
occurred forty-seven times in succession."

Orsino laughed a little, and as Madame d'Aragona's eyes met his, the red
lips smiled, without parting.

"He is always laughing at me," she said pleasantly.

Gouache was painting with great alacrity. The smile was becoming to her
and he caught it as it passed. It must be allowed that she permitted it
to linger, as though she understood his wish, but as she was looking at
Orsino, he was pleased.