"Do you not think, as I do, that the light is very good? Had I not
better remain here?"

Servin turned pale. As nothing escapes the piercing eyes of malice,
Mademoiselle Thirion became, as it were, a sharer in the sudden
emotion of master and pupil.

"You are right," said Servin; "but really," he added, with a forced
laugh, "you will soon come to know more than I do."

A pause followed, during which the professor studied the drawing of
the officer's head.

"It is a masterpiece! worthy of Salvator Rosa!" he exclaimed, with the
energy of an artist.

All the pupils rose on hearing this, and Mademoiselle Thirion darted
forward with the velocity of a tiger on its prey. At this instant, the
prisoner, awakened, perhaps, by the noise, began to move. Ginevra
knocked over her stool, said a few incoherent sentences, and began to
laugh; but she had thrown the portrait into her portfolio before
Amelie could get to her. The easel was now surrounded; Servin
descanted on the beauty of the copy which his favorite pupil was then
making, and the whole class was duped by this stratagem, except
Amelie, who, slipping behind her companions, attempted to open the
portfolio where she had seen Ginevra throw the sketch. But the latter
took it up without a word, and placed it in front of her. The two
young girls then looked at each other fixedly, in silence.

"Come, mesdemoiselles, take your places," said Servin. "If you wish to