"Of course. But what in the world does Gouache want of it? Is he
painting you in skins--the primeval youth of the forest?"

"No--not exactly. The fact is, there is a lady there. Gouache talks of
painting her as a modern Omphale, with a tiger's skin and a cast of
Hercules in the background--"

"Hercules wore a lion's skin--not a tiger's. He killed the Nemean lion."

"Did he?" inquired Orsino indifferently. "It is all the same--they do
not know it, and they want a tiger. When I left they were debating
whether they wanted it alive or dead. I thought of buying one at the
Prati di Castello, but it seemed cheaper to borrow the skin of you. May
I take it?"

Sant' Ilario laughed. Orsino rolled up the great hide and carried it to
the door.

"Who is the lady, my boy?"

"I never saw her before--a certain Donna Maria d'Aranjuez d'Aragona. I
fancy she must be a kind of cousin. Do you know anything about her?"

"I never heard of such a person. Is that her own name?"

"No--she seems to be somebody's widow."

"That is definite. What is she like?"

"Passably handsome--yellow eyes, reddish hair, one eye wanders."