The young girl looked up at Ginevra, and their thoughts united. Laure
could no longer keep back her tears; she flung herself on her friend's
breast and sobbed. At this moment Servin came into the studio.

"Mademoiselle Ginevra," he cried, with enthusiasm, "I have finished my
picture! it is now being varnished. What have you been doing,
meanwhile? Where are the young ladies; are they taking a holiday, or
are they in the country?"

Laure dried her tears, bowed to Monsieur Servin, and went away.

"The studio has been deserted for some days," replied Ginevra, "and
the young ladies are not coming back."

"Pooh!"

"Oh! don't laugh," said Ginevra. "Listen: I am the involuntary cause
of the loss of your reputation--"

The artist smiled, and said, interrupting his pupil:--

"My reputation? Why, in a few days my picture will make it at the
Exposition."

"That relates to your talent," replied the girl. "I am speaking of
your morality. Those young ladies have told their mothers that Luigi
was shut up here, and that you lent yourself--to--our love."

"There is some truth in that, mademoiselle," replied the professor.