The Bohemian laughed boisterously. The last straw! He
was crazy; they would make sport of him!
The master scarcely touched the meal. Afterwards he walked up and down
alone in the studio. How slowly the time went! At each turn through the
three studios he looked at the hands of an old clock of Saxon china,
which stood on a table of colored marble, with its back reflected in a
tall, Venetian mirror.
It was already three. The master wondered if she was not going to come.
Quarter past three,--half-past three. No, she was not coming; it was
past the time. Those women who live amid obligations and demands,
without a minute to themselves!
Suddenly he heard steps and Cotoner entered.
"She is here; here she comes. Good luck, master. Have a good time! I
guess you have imposed on me long enough and will not expect me to
stay."
He went out waving him an ironical farewell and a little later
Renovales heard Lopez de Sosa's voice, approaching slowly, explaining to
his companion the pictures and furniture which attracted her attention.
They entered. The "Bella Fregolina" looked astonished; she seemed
intimidated by the majestic silence of the studio. What a big, princely
house, so different from all those she had seen! That ancient, solid,
historic luxury with its rare furniture filled her with fear! She looked
at Renovales with great respect. He seemed to her more distinguished
than that other man whom she had seen indistinctly in the orchestra of
her little theater.
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