but Gouache completed the sentence.

"For the present, until my bones are mended, we will not speak of
it. When I am well again I will do myself the honour of asking the
prince's consent myself."

Flavia leaned towards her mother and whispered into her ear. The
words were quite audible, and the girl's dark eyes turned to
Gouache with a wicked laugh in them while she was speaking.

"Oh, mamma, if you tell papa it is for nothing he will be quite
delighted!"

Gouache's lip trembled as he suppressed a smile, and the elderly
princess's florid cheeks flushed with annoyance.

"For the present," she said, holding out her hand rather coldly,
"we will not speak of it. Pray let us know of your speedy
recovery, Monsieur Gouache."

As the artist took his leave he glanced once more at Donna
Faustina. Her face was pale and her eyes flashed angrily. She,
too, had heard Flavia's stage whisper and was even more annoyed
than her mother. Gouache went his way toward his lodging in the
company of the surgeon, pondering on the inscrutable mysteries of
the Roman household of which he had been vouchsafed a glimpse. He
was in pain from his head and shoulder, but insisted that the walk
would do him good and refused the cab which his companion had
brought. A broken collar-bone is not a dangerous matter, but it
can be very troublesome for a while, and the artist was glad to