In an instant a light step tripped down the steps of the wooden erection, and a little figure, clad in a brown holland frock, which wrapped it from head to foot, stood by her side.

Paolina knew very well who the lady that had entered the chapel was:  and, as may be easily imagined, she too was not without her share of curiosity.

“Do I disturb you, Signorina?” said Paolina, in a sweet, gentle voice.  “If you would prefer it, I will wait till you have finished your prayer.  I can kneel here too the while.”

Violante looked at the girlish face, bright not only with the elements of material beauty, but with the animation of intelligence and the informing expression of talent.  One would have said that nothing could well be less becoming than such a long shapeless wrapper as that which the artist wore.  There was the band at the waist, which showed that the figure was slight and slender; but, for the rest, a less ornamental costume could not well be imagined.  Nevertheless, Violante perfectly well perceived and understood at a glance that this girl had what she had not—­a something by virtue of which it was possible for her to win a man’s love, while for herself it was, or seemed to her appreciation of herself, impossible.

“Oh, no, Signorina,” answered Violante, gently, “the knowledge that you were painting up there would not suffice to distract my thoughts.  But will you not let me look at your work?  It must be very difficult to copy these strange old wall-paintings.  May I climb up?  I know your friend the Marchese Lamberto well.  Do you know who I am?”

“Pray, come up, Signorina, if you have any curiosity.  Oh, yes, I know your ladyship.  I saw you once in the Cardinal’s carriage.  You are his niece, the Contessa Violante,” replied Paolina, blushing a little at the name of the Marchese Lamberto, only because, though assuredly not the rose, he lived close to it.

So the two girls climbed the steps of the estrade together.

“How came you to know the Marchese Lamberto?” asked Violante, after they had matured their acquaintanceship by a little talk about the subject of Paolina’s work.

“Only because the Englishman, who employed me to copy these mosaics, gave me a letter to him.  He seems to be very highly esteemed.”

“More so than any other man in all Ravenna,—­except my uncle the Cardinal, I suppose I ought to say; he is a most excellent man in all ways.  But you know his nephew also, the Marchese Ludovico? non e vero?” said Violante, looking down on the ground, while a pale blush came over her white cheeks.

“Yes,” replied Paolina, flushing crimson, and similarly looking down, but stealing a side-glance under her eyelashes at her companion,—­“yes; I became acquainted with him also in the same manner—­at least, on the same occasion; and, in truth, I have seen more of him than of his uncle, for the Marchese Lamberto is always so busy, and he commissioned his nephew to do all that he could to assist us, when we were first settling ourselves here.”