for he was there, near her, watching her work. The first time he sat
down beside her to contemplate her silently, she said, in a voice of
some emotion, after a long pause:--

"Does it amuse you to see me paint?"

That day she learned that his name was Luigi. Before separating, it
was agreed between them that if, on class-days when they could not see
each other, any important political event occurred, Ginevra was to
inform him by singing certain Corsican melodies then agreed upon.

The following day Mademoiselle Thirion informed all the members of the
class, under pledge of secrecy that Ginevra di Piombo had a lover, a
young man who came during the hours for the lesson, and concealed
himself in the garret beyond the studio.

"You, who take her part," she said to Mademoiselle Roguin, "watch her
carefully, and you will see how she spends her time."

Ginevra was, therefore, observed with diabolical attention. They
listened to her songs, they watched her glances. At times, when she
supposed that no one saw her, a dozen pairs of eyes were furtively
upon her. Thus enlightened, the girls were able to interpret truly the
emotions that crossed the features of the beautiful Italian,--her
gestures, the peculiar tones in which she hummed a tune, and the
attention with which they saw her listen to sounds which only she
could hear through the partition.

By the end of a week, Laure was the only one of Servin's fifteen
pupils who had resisted the temptation of looking at Luigi through the