afford a horse such as all his gentlemen friends rode. Adversity
developed no good qualities in him; the discipline was harder and
sterner still that made of him a true man at last.

Ronald went on with his painting fitfully, sometimes producing a
good picture, but often failing.

The greatest patron of the fine arts in Florence was the Prince
di Borgezi. His magnificent palace was like one picture gallery.
He saw some sketches of Ronald's, and gave an order to him to
paint a large picture, leaving him to choose the subject. In
vain by night and by day did Ronald ponder on what that subject
should be. He longed to make his name immortal by it. He
thought once of Tennyson's "Dora," and of sketching his wife for
the principal figure. He did make a sketch, but he found that he
could not paint Dora's face; he could not place the dimpling
smiles and bright blushes on canvas, and they were the chief
charm. He therefore abandoned the idea.

Standing one day where the sunbeams fell lightly through the
thick myrtles, an inspiration came to him. He would paint a
picture of Queen Guinevere in her gay sweet youth and bright
innocent beauty--Guinevere with her lovely face and golden hair,
the white plumes waving and jewels flashing; the bright figure on
the milk-white palfrey shining in the mellow sunlight that came
through the green trees.

Lancelot should ride by her side; he could see every detail of
the picture; he knew just the noble, brave, tender face Sir
Lancelot should have; but where could he find a model for