"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.”

66 '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," remarked 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!"

"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."

"Poor fellow! I suppose the fortune is not very large."

"I have no means of knowing," replied Gouache indifferently. "Their palace is historic. Their equipages are magnificent. That is all that foreigners see of Roman families."

"But you know them intimately?" "Intimately, that is saying too much. I have painted their portraits."

Madame d'Aragona wondered why he was so reticent, for she knew that he had himself married the daughter of a Roman prince, and she concluded that he must know much of the Romans.

"Do you think he will bring the tiger?" she asked presently.

"He is quite capable of bringing a whole menagerie of tigers for you to choose from.”

"How interesting! I like men who stop at nothing. It was really unpardonable of you to suggest the idea, and then to tell me calmly that you had no model for it."

In the mean time Orsino had descended the stairs and was hailing a passing cab. He debated for a moment what he should do. It chanced that at that time there was actually a collection of wild beasts to be seen in the Prati di Castello, and Orsino supposed that the owner might be induced, for a large

consideration, to part with one of his tigers. He even imagined that he might shoot the beast and bring it back in the cab. But, in the first place, he was not provided with an adequate sum of money, nor at a moment's notice did he know exactly how to lay his hand on so large a sum as might be necessary. He was still under age, and his allowance had not been calculated with a view to buying menageries. Moreover, he considered that even if his pockets had been full of bank notes the idea was ridiculous, and he was rather ashamed of his youthful impulse. It occurred to him. that what was necessary for the picture was not the carcass of the tiger, but the skin, and he remembered that such a skin lay on the floor in his father's private room, the spoil of the animal Giovanni Saracinesca had shot in his youth. It had been well cared for, and was a fine specimen.

"Palazzo Saracinesca," he said to the cabman.

It chanced, as such things will chance in the inscrutable ways of fate, that Sant' Ilario was just then in that very room, and was busy with his correspondence. Orsino had hoped to carry off what he wanted without being questioned, in order to save time, but he now found himself obliged to explain his errand.

"Well, Orsino? Is anything the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing serious, father. I want to borrow your tiger's skin for Gouache. Will you lend it to me?"

"Of course. But what in the world does Gouache want of it? Is he painting you in skins, the primeval youth of the forest?"

“No, not exactly. The fact is, there is a lady there. Gouache talks of painting her as a modern Omphale, with a tiger's skin, and a cast of Hercules in the background."

you should buy twenty live tigers at the Prati than lose that old thing."

Orsino promised, and was soon in his cab on the way to Gouache's studio, having the skin rolled up on his knees, the head hanging out on one side and the tail on the other, to the infinite interest of the people in the street. He was just congratulating himself on having wasted so little time in conversation with his father when the figure of a tall woman walking towards him on the pavement arrested his attention. His cab must pass close by her, and there was no mistaking his mother at a hun

dred yards' distance. She saw him, too, and made a sign with her parasol for him to stop.

"Good-morning, Orsino," said the sweet, deep voice.

"Good-morning, mother," he answered, as he descended, hat in hand, and kissed the gloved fingers she extended to him.

He could not help thinking, as he looked at her, that she was infinitely more beautiful even now than Madame d'Aragona. As for Corona, it seemed to her that there was no man on earth to compare with her eldest son, except Giovanni himself, and there all comparison ceased. Their eyes met affectionately, and it would have been hard to say which was the more proud of the other, the son of his mother, or the mother of her son. Nevertheless Orsino was in a hurry. Anticipating all questions, he told her in as few words as possible the nature of his errand, the object of the tiger's skin, and the name of the lady who was sitting to Gouache.

"It's strange," said Corona. "I have never heard your father speak of her."

"He has never heard of her, either. He just told me so."

"I have almost enough curiosity to get into your cab and go with you."

"Do, mother." There was not much enthusiasm in the answer.

When he entered the studio he found Madame d'Aragona absorbed in the contemplation of a piece of old tapestry which hung opposite to her, while Gouache was drawing in a tiny Hercules high up in the right-hand corner of the picture, as he had proposed. The conversation seemed to have languished, and Orsino was immediately conscious that the atmosphere had changed since he had left. He unrolled the skin as he entered, and Madame d'Aragona looked at it critically. She saw that the tawny colors would become her in the portrait, and her expression became more animated.

"It is really very good of you," she said, with a grateful glance.

"I have a disappointment in store for you," answered Orsino. "My father says that Hercules wore a lion's skin. He is quite right; I remember

you

"Foolish boy! Did think I was in earnest? I should only spoil your amusement in the studio, and the lady would see that I had come to inspect her. Two good reasons, but the first is the better, dear. Go; do not keep them waiting."

"Will you not take my cab? I can get another."

"No. I am in no hurry. Good-by." And nodding to him with an affectionate smile, Corona passed on, leaving Orsino free at last to carry the skin to its destination.

"You should not call my ideas absurd and tiresome. It is not civil."

"I thought it had been mine," observed Gouache.

"Not at all. I thought of it; it was quite original."

Gouache laughed a little, and looked at Orsino as though asking his opinion.

"Madame is right," said the latter. "She suggested the whole idea - by having yellow eyes."

"You see, Gouache. I told you so. The prince takes my view. What will you do?"

"Whatever you command."

"But I do not want to be ridiculous." "I do not see".

"And yet I must have the tiger."

"I am ready."

cinto, for instance, oh, then every one would laugh."

"Why? What is that?"

"She married my cousin," said Orsino. "He is an enormous giant, and they say that she has tamed him." "Ah, no! My poor Aranjuez was a People might even think

little man.

-

"Nothing easier. Noble Roman damsel - Colosseum tiger about to spring rose" "Just heaven! What an old story! Besides, I have not the type." "The Mysteries of Dionysus," suggested Gouache. "Thyrsus, leopard's "Thyrsus, leopard's skin"

"A Bacchante! Fie, monsieur! And then the leopard, when we have only a tiger!"

"Indian princess interviewed by a man-eater-jungle-new moon-tropical vegetation"

"You can think of nothing but subjects for a dark type," said Madame d'Aragona impatiently.

"The fact is, in countries where the tiger walks abroad the women are generally brunettes."

"I hate facts. You who are enthusiastic, can you not help us?" She turned to Orsino.

"Am I enthusiastic?"

ory"

ours."

white fingers. She came very near to Gouache and looked into his eyes, her closed lips smiling.

"Admirable!" cried Gouache. "It is impossible to tell where the woman ends and the tiger begins. Let me draw you like that."

"Oh, no, not for anything in the world."

She turned away quickly and dropped the skin from her shoulders.

"You will not stay a little longer? You will not let me try?" Gouache seemed disappointed.

"Impossible," she answered, putting on her hat and beginning to arrange her veil before a mirror.

Not

Orsino watched her as she stood, her arms uplifted, in an attitude which is almost always graceful, even for an otherwise ungraceful woman. Madame d'Aragona was perhaps a little too short, but she was justly proportioned and appeared to be rather slight, though the tight-fitting sleeves of her frock betrayed a remarkably well- turned arm. seeing her face, one might not have singled her out of many as a very striking woman, for she had neither the stateliness of Orsino's mother nor the enchanting grace which distinguished Gouache's wife. But no one could look into her eyes without feeling that she was very far from being an ordinary

Orsino had taken his hat and was standing beside her.

"You will allow me to put you into your carriage?"

"I shall walk."

"So much the better. Good-by, Monsieur Gouache."

66

Why say 'monsieur'?" like; you

"As

you are older than I.” "I? Who has told you that legend? It is only a myth. When you are sixty years old, I shall still be five-andtwenty."

"And I?" inquired Madame d'Aragona, who was still young enough to laugh at age.

"As old as you were yesterday; not a day older."

"Why not say to-day?"

"Because to-day has a to-morrow; yesterday has none."

"You are delicious, my dear Gouache. Good-by."

Madame d'Aragona went out with Orsino, and they descended the broad staircase together. Orsino was not sure whether he might not be showing too much anxiety to remain in the company of his new acquaintance, and as he realized how unpleasant it would be to sacrffice the walk with her, he endeavored to excuse to himself his derogation from his self-imposed character of cool superiority and indifference. She was very amusing, he said to himself, and he had nothing in the world to do. He never had anything to do, since his education had been completed. Why should he not walk with Madame d'Aragona, and talk to her? It would be better than hanging about the club or reading a novel at home. The hounds did not meet on that day, or he would not have been at Gouache's at all. But they were to meet to-morrow, and he would therefore not see Madame d'Aragona.

"Gouache is an old friend of yours, I suppose?" observed the lady.

"He was a friend of my father's. He is almost a Roman. He married a dis