“Pesne’s studio is now in the palace; the king appointed him rooms there.”

“Well, then, I must sit to him in the palace.”

“This, however, will be disagreeable to you; you abhor the king, and it will be painful to be under the same roof.  You perhaps suppose the king to be in Potsdam:  he is now in Berlin.”  Barbarina turned suddenly, and throwing her arms around Marietta’s neck, she pressed a kiss upon her lips, and whispered:  “I know it, Marietta, but I must go.”

The sisters went therefore to the new studio of the painter Pesne, which was in the royal palace.  The king took great pleasure in the growth and development of works of art.  While Pesne was engaged on his great picture of Diana and her Nymphs, the king often visited his studio and watched him at his work.  He had closely examined the sketch of the portrait of Barbarina, and, on his return from Silesia, commanded Pesne to arrange a studio in the castle, as he wished to be near him.

Barbarina sprang like a gazelle up the steps; her foot was not painful, or she was unconscious of it.  She was impatient, and would scarcely wait to be announced before entering the room.  Pesne was there, and welcomed the signora joyfully.  Barbarina looked about in vain for her portrait.

“Has misfortune overtaken the portrait as well as the original?” she said, smiling.

“Not so, signora,” said Pesne; “the portrait excites as great a furor as the original—­only, though, because it is a copy.”

“I do not understand you.”

“I mean, that his majesty is so enraptured with the copy, that since yesterday it has been placed in his study, although I protested against it, the picture not being finished.  The king, however, persisted; he said he wished to show the portrait to his friends, and consult with them as to its defects.”

Never, in her most brilliant role, was Barbarina so beautiful as at this moment:  her countenance glowed with rapture; her happy smile and glance would have made the homeliest face handsome.

“Then I have come in vain,” she said, breathing quickly; “you can make no use of me to-day?”

“No, no, signora! your face is a star seldom seen in my heaven, and I must grasp the opportunity—­have the kindness to wait; I will hasten to the king and return with the picture.”

Without giving Barbarina time to answer, he left the room.  Why did her heart beat so quickly?  Why were her cheeks suffused with crimson?  Why were her eyes fixed so nervously upon the door.  Steps were heard in the adjoining room.  Barbarina pressed her hands upon her heart:  she was greatly agitated.  The door opened, and Pesne returned, alone and without the picture.

“Signora,” said he, “the king wishes that the sitting should take place in his rooms; his majesty will be kind enough to make suggestions and call my attention to some faults.  I will get my palette and brush, and, if agreeable to you, we will go at once.”