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Rh easel—there, there,"—giving it a touch or two—"I am working at—"

"But," said Francesca, "it is the picture of the King which he comes to see."

"Good, good; I can reach that down when he comes. Madelon, burn some sandal-wood on the stairs; and, Madelon, when I look at the picture of Tragedy, with the dagger and cup, go you, without my telling, into the cellar—here is the key—and bring up a bottle of Burgundy: if his Excellency is in a good humour, I may venture to offer it him; and, Madelon, your best confitures for Madame de Mercœur. Ah, Mademoiselle, you are too good," for Francesca had knelt down to assist in unfastening the cords of a package, which Correggio, in his haste, was rather tightening than loosening. A small but exquisite Madonna was produced,—"Leave the cords about that; his Eminence may observe it is only opened in honour of his arrival."

As Guido entered, a carriage was heard slowly rolling into the court-yard. Bournonville flew down to receive his expected visitors, and almost involuntarily, the cousins drew closer together. Guido grew paler—he only recollected that the Cardinal was the uncle of Marie; while Francesca