respecting chaperonage, propriety, and Mrs. Grundy, had yielded to
my entreaties and gone for a drive with some friends. In spite of
the fears she began to entertain concerning the Mephistophelian
character of Raffaello Cellini, there was one thing of which both
she and I felt morally certain: namely, that no truer or more
honourable gentleman than he ever walked on the earth. Under his
protection the loveliest and loneliest woman that ever lived would
have been perfectly safe--as safe as though she were shut up, like
the princess in the fairy-tale, in a brazen tower, of which only an
undiscoverable serpent possessed the key. When I arrived, the rooms
were deserted, save for the presence of a magnificent Newfoundland
dog, who, as I entered, rose, and shaking his shaggy body, sat down
before me and offered me his huge paw, wagging his tail in the most
friendly manner all the while, I at once responded to his cordial
greeting, and as I stroked his noble head, I wondered where the
animal had come from; for though--we had visited Signor Cellini's
studio every day, there had been no sign or mention of this stately,
brown-eyed, four-footed companion. I seated myself, and the dog
immediately lay down at my feet, every now and then looking up at me
with an affectionate glance and a renewed wagging of his tail.
Glancing round the well-known room, I noticed that the picture I
admired so much was veiled by a curtain of Oriental stuff, in which
were embroidered threads of gold mingled with silks of various
brilliant hues. On the working easel was a large square canvas,
already prepared, as I supposed, for my features to be traced
thereon. It was an exceedingly warm morning, and though the windows
as well as the glass doors of the conservatory were wide open, I
found the air of the studio very oppressive. I perceived on the
table a finely-wrought decanter of Venetian glass, in which clear
water sparkled temptingly. Rising from my chair, I took an antique