“My dear Gouache, you are insufferable.  You are always telling me that I am beautiful.  Look at my nose.”

“Yes.  I am looking at it.”

“And my mouth.”

“I look.  I see.  I admire.  Have you any other personal observations to make?  How many claws has a tiger, Don Orsino?  Quick!  I am painting the thing.”

“One less than a woman.”

Madame d’Aragona looked at the young man a moment, and broke into a laugh.

“There is a charming speech.  I like that better than Gouache’s flattery.”

“And yet you admit that the portrait is like you,” said Gouache.

“Perhaps I flatter you, too.”

“Ah!  I had not thought of that.”

“You should be more modest.”

“I lose myself—­”

“Where?”

“In your eyes, Madame.  One, two, three, four—­are you sure a tiger has only four claws?  Where is the creature’s thumb—­what do you call it?  It looks awkward.”

“The dew-claw?” asked Orsino.  “It is higher up, behind the paw.  You would hardly see it in the skin.”

“But a cat has five claws,” said Madame d’Aragona.  “Is not a tiger a cat?  We must have the thing right, you know, if it is to be done at all.”

“Has a cat five claws?” asked Anastase, appealing anxiously to Orsino.

“Of course, but you would only see four on the skin.”

“I insist upon knowing,” said Madame d’Aragona.  “This is dreadful!  Has no one got a tiger?  What sort of studio is this—­with no tiger!”

“I am not Sarah Bernhardt, nor the emperor of Siam,” observed Gouache, with a laugh.

But Madame d’Aragona was not satisfied.

“I am sure you could procure me one, Prince,” she said, turning to Orsino.  “I am sure you could, if you would!  I shall cry if I do not have one, and it will be your fault.”

“Would you like the animal alive or dead?” inquired Orsino gravely, and he rose from his seat.

“Ah, I knew you could procure the thing!” she exclaimed with grateful enthusiasm.  “Alive or dead, Gouache?  Quick—­decide!”

“As you please, Madame.  If you decide to have him alive, I will ask permission to exchange a few words with my wife and children, while some one goes for a priest.”

“You are sublime, to-day.  Dead, then, if you please, Prince.  Quite dead—­but do not say that I was afraid—­”

“Afraid?  With, a Saracinesca and a Gouache to defend your life, Madame?  You are not serious.”

Orsino took his hat.

“I shall be back in a quarter of an hour,” he said, as he bowed and went out.

Madame d’Aragona watched his tall young figure till he disappeared.

“He does not lack spirit, your young friend,” she observed.

“No member of that family ever did, I think,” Gouache answered.  “They are a remarkable race.”

“And he is the only son?”

“Oh no!  He has three younger brothers.”