silver goblet from the mantelpiece, filled it with the cool fluid,
and was about to drink, when the cup was suddenly snatched from my
hands, and the voice of Cellini, changed from its usual softness to
a tone both imperious and commanding, startled me.

"Do not drink that," he said; "you must not! You dare not! I forbid
you!"

I looked up at him in mute astonishment. His face was very pale, and
his large dark eyes shone with suppressed excitement. Slowly my
self-possession returned to me, and I said calmly:

"YOU forbid me, signor? Surely you forget yourself. What harm have I
done in helping myself to a simple glass of water in your studio?
You are not usually so inhospitable."

While I spoke his manner changed, the colour returned to his face,
and his eyes softened--he smiled.

"Forgive me, mademoiselle, for my brusquerie. It is true I forgot
myself for a moment. But you were in danger, and----"

"In danger!" I exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes, mademoiselle. This," and he held up the Venetian decanter to
the light, "is not water simply. If you will observe it now with the
sunshine beating full against it, I think you will perceive
peculiarities in it that will assure you of my veracity."

I looked as he bade me, and saw, to my surprise, that the fluid was