He took the book with an eager hand, and perused the sketch as if
trying to read some secret there. After a minute he handed it back with
a light sigh, apparently of relief, but said nothing.

"Well?" asked Mrs. Vervain.

"Oh! I ask pardon. No, it isn't my idea of madamigella. It seems to me
that her likeness must be sketched in color. Those lines are true, but
they need color to subdue them; they go too far, they are more than
true."

"You're quite right, Don Ippolito," said Ferris.

"Then _you_ don't think she always has this proud look?" pursued
Mrs. Vervain. The painter fancied that Florida quelled in herself a
movement of impatience; he looked at her with an amused smile.

"Not always, no," answered Don Ippolito.

"Sometimes her face expresses the greatest meekness in the world."

"But not at the present moment," thought Ferris, fascinated by the
stare of angry pride which the girl bent upon the unconscious priest.

"Though I confess that I should hardly know how to characterize her
habitual expression," added Don Ippolito.

"Thanks," said Florida, peremptorily. "I'm tired of the subject; it
isn't an important one."