at this moment, and Carlton, the young American, was seen making his
way to the front of his companions, several of whom rebuked him for
his forwardness in so doing.

"Why do you push forward, Carlton?"

"Nay, give way but a moment," said our hero.

"What would you?"

"To speak to the duke."

"Fie, man, don't you see he's busy now?"

"Give way but a moment," was the reply.

"May it please you, excellenza," said Carlton, stepping before the
group of artists, and addressing the monarch in Italian, which he
spoke like a native, "I am the humble author of the picture it has
pleased you to compliment so highly."

All eyes were turned upon the speaker, who stood forth from his
companions with downcast eyes and burning cheeks, for well he knew
that the eyes of all Florence, or rather its nobility, were resting
upon him at that moment. The countenances of his former companions
evinced no emotions of resentment, as one might have expected who
understood their former feelings toward the American. No; they were
too much filled with surprise to entertain any other feeling for the
moment, and they looked at each other in the utmost amazement,
scarcely believing their senses.