long dryness.

"Now, to dinner! to dinner!" cried the baron, offering his large hand
to his daughter, whom he called "Signora Piombellina,"--another
symptom of gayety, to which Ginevra replied by a smile.

"Ah ca!" said Piombo, as they left the table, "your mother has called
my attention to the fact that for some weeks you have stayed much
longer than usual at the studio. It seems that painting is more to you
than your parents--"

"Oh, father!"

"Ginevra is preparing some surprise for us, I think," said the mother.

"A picture of your own! will you bring us that?" cried the Corsican,
clapping his hands.

"Yes, I am very much occupied at the studio," replied Ginevra, rather
slowly.

"What is the matter, Ginevra? You are turning pale!" cried her mother.

"No!" exclaimed the young girl in a tone of resolution,--"no! it shall
never be said that Ginevra Piombo acted a lie."

Hearing this singular exclamation, Piombo and his wife looked at their
daughter in astonishment.

"I love a young man," she added, in a voice of emotion.