"What an awful picture! Do not fall in love with her, Orsino."

"No fear of that--but she is amusing, and she wants the tiger."

"You seem to be in a hurry," observed Sant' Ilario, considerably amused.

"Naturally. They are waiting for me."

"Well, go as fast as you can--never keep a woman waiting. By the way,
bring the skin back. I would rather you bought twenty live tigers at the
Prati than lose that old thing."

Orsino promised and was soon in his cab on the way to Gouache's studio,
having the skin rolled up on his knees, the head hanging out on one side
and the tail on the other, to the infinite interest of the people in the
street. He was just congratulating himself on having wasted so little
time in conversation with his father, when the figure of a tall woman
walking towards him on the pavement, arrested his attention. His cab
must pass close by her, and there was no mistaking his mother at a
hundred yards' distance. She saw him too and made a sign with her
parasol for him to stop.

"Good-morning, Orsino," said the sweet deep voice.

"Good-morning, mother," he answered, as he descended hat in hand, and
kissed the gloved fingers she extended to him.

He could not help thinking, as he looked at her, that she was infinitely
more beautiful even now than Madame d'Aragona. As for Corona, it seemed