As to mine own presentment; at first I weened that I would be limned in my peach-colored brocade gown with silver dolphins thereon, by reason that I had worn that weed in the early morn after the dance, when Hans spoke his last loving farewell at the door of our house.  But whereas one cold day I went into Master Giacomo’s work-chamber in a red hood and a green cloak bordered with sable fur, he would thenceforth paint me in no other guise.  At first he was fain to present me as going forth to church; then he deemed that he might not show forth my very look and seeming if I were limned with downcast head and eyes.  Therefor he gave me the falcon on my hand which had erewhile been my lover’s gift.  My eyes were set on the distance as though I watched for a heron; thus I seemed in truth like one hunting—­“chaste Diana,” quoth the painter, minding him of the reproofs I had given him so often.  But it would be a hard task to tell of all the ways whereby the painter would provoke me to reprove him.  When the likeness was no more than half done, he painted his own merry face to the falcon on my wrist gazing up at me with silly languor.  Thereupon, when he presently quitted us, I took the red chalk and wrote his wife’s name on a clear place in front of the face and beneath it the image of a birch rod; and on the morrow he brought with him a right pleasant Sonnet, which I scarce had pardoned had he not offered it so humbly and read it in so sweet a voice.  And, being plainly interpreted, it was as follows: 

“Upon Olympus, where the gods do dwell
Who with almighty will rule earth and heaven,
Lo!  I behold the chiefest of them all
Jove, on his throne with Juno at his side. 
A noble wedded pair.  In all the world
The eye may vainly seek nor find their like. 
The nations to his sanctuary throng,
And kings, struck dumb, cast down their golden crowns.

“Yet even these are not for ever one. 
The god flies from the goddess.—­And a swan
Does devoir now, the slave of Leda’s charms.

“Thus I behold the beams of thy bright eye,
And bid my home farewell,—­I, hapless wight,
Fly like the god, fair maid, to worship thee !”

Albeit I suffered him to recite these lines to the end I turned from him with a countenance of great wrath, and tore the paper whereon they were writ in two halves which I flung behind the stove.  Nor did I put away my angry and offended mien until he had right humbly besought my forgiveness.  Yet when I had granted it, and he presently quitted the chamber, I did, I confess, gather up the torn paper and bestow it in my girdle-poke.  Nay, meseems that I had of intent rent it only in twain, to the end that I might the better join it again.  Thus to this day it lieth in my chest, with other relics of the past; yet I verily believe that another Sonnet, which Sir Giacomo found on the morrow, laid on his easel, was not so treasured by him.  It was thus: