The hearts of the artists of Florence beat high on that day, and the moments were impatiently counted by all until the hour should arrive for the public presentation and audience in the picture gallery.  The selection having been made on the previous day by the Grand Duke and his court, the time had now arrived for him to award the prize he had offered.

Among the throng that crowded the gates of the palace, Carlton was observed humbly pursuing his way, turning neither to the right nor left, and passing unnoticed some of his brother artists, who ventured a jeer at his expense.

“That coat of thine is not fit for the presence of the Grand Duke,” said one.

“Carlton, you forgot to dress, today,” said another, tauntingly.

“Don’t bother him,” added a third; “he’s only a looker-on.”

“That is all, gentlemen,” said Carlton, as he quietly passed the portals of the palace, secretly biting his lip with restrained feeling.  He had other business in hand than to notice these insults.  His soul was pre-occupied, and he scarcely heeded them a moment after they had been spoken.

CHAPTER V.

Awarding the prize.

Let the end try the man.

-Henry IV.

The beauty and the aristocracy of Florence crowded the gorgeous apartments of the ducal palace, admiring the matchless pictures now first exhibited to the public view-the productions of the artists of the city for the prize of the liberal monarch.

There was not one which did not draw forth high and just encomiums for its beauty and excellence; but all paused to admire above the rest, one which, from originality of conception and perfection of finish, was pronounced to surpass all its competitors, and great was the curiosity expressed as to who was the author.-Some said that Michael Angelo himself must have arisen from the tomb to produce so perfect a picture.  Throughout the hours of the exhibition, until the time appointed for the awarding of the prize, the superb picture bearing the name of “The Unknown,” was the constant theme of all, and the centre of attraction.

Among that lovely collection of beauty and fashion stood Florinda, in all the loveliness of youth and high-born beauty, “the star of that goodly company.”  How different was the expression of her face from the majority of those about her.  No pride or envy could be traced on that beautiful brow, stamped with innocence and gentleness; those mild deep blue eyes knew no deceit, but frankly shared the promptings of her pure, untainted soul at every glance.

She looked more like the formation of the fancy in some fairy dream than a reality, so angelic did she seem amid that princely throng.  She did not know that Carlton had contended for the prize; he had kept his own secret, and she expressed her unfeigned admiration of the picture by “The Unknown.”  She was the belle of the hour, if not of the court, and her commendation alone would have served to attract attention to the picture; but already had the duke in person pointed out some of the most prominent beauties in the piece to those about him.