immemorial usage. As he bent his head she looked at me askance, and I
thought she blushed.

"Behold the Serafina!" said Theobald, frankly, waving me forward. "This
is a friend, and a lover of the arts," he added, introducing me. I
received a smile, a curtsey, and a request to be seated.

The most beautiful woman in Italy was a person of a generous Italian type
and of a great simplicity of demeanour. Seated again at her lamp, with
her embroidery, she seemed to have nothing whatever to say. Theobald,
bending towards her in a sort of Platonic ecstasy, asked her a dozen
paternally tender questions as to her health, her state of mind, her
occupations, and the progress of her embroidery, which he examined
minutely and summoned me to admire. It was some portion of an
ecclesiastical vestment--yellow satin wrought with an elaborate design of
silver and gold. She made answer in a full rich voice, but with a
brevity which I hesitated whether to attribute to native reserve or to
the profane constraint of my presence. She had been that morning to
confession; she had also been to market, and had bought a chicken for
dinner. She felt very happy; she had nothing to complain of except that
the people for whom she was making her vestment, and who furnished her
materials, should be willing to put such rotten silver thread into the
garment, as one might say, of the Lord. From time to time, as she took
her slow stitches, she raised her eyes and covered me with a glance which
seemed at first to denote a placid curiosity, but in which, as I saw it
repeated, I thought I perceived the dim glimmer of an attempt to
establish an understanding with me at the expense of our companion.
Meanwhile, as mindful as possible of Theobald's injunction of reverence,
I considered the lady's personal claims to the fine compliment he had
paid her.