Part 107 (2/2)

”Then be thou the first to leave off.”

”At thy request, my friend.” She then whispered Gerard, ”It was only to make you laugh: you are distraught, you are sad. Judge whether I care for the quips of these little fools, or the admiration of these big fools. Dear Signor Gerard, would I were what they take me for? You should not be so sad.” Gerard sighed deeply; and shook his head. But, touched by the earnest young tones, caressed the jet black locks, much as one strokes the head of an affectionate dog.

At this moment a galley drifting slowly down stream got entangled for an instant in their ropes: for, the river turning suddenly, they had shot out into the stream: and this galley came between them and the bank. In it a lady of great beauty was seated under a canopy with gallants and dependents standing behind her.

Gerard looked up at the interruption. It was the princess Claelia.

He coloured and withdrew his hand from Marcia's head.

Marcia was all admiration. ”Aha! ladies,” said she, ”here is a rival an'

ye will. Those cheeks were coloured by Nature--like mine.”

”Peace, child! peace!” said Gerard. ”Make not too free with the great.”

”Why, she heard me not. Oh, Ser Gerard, what a lovely creature!”

Two of the females had been for some time past putting their heads together and casting glances at Marcia.

One of them now addressed her.

”Signorina, do you love almonds?”

The speaker had a lapful of them.

”Yes, I love them; when I can get them,” said Marcia, pettishly, and eyeing the fruit with ill-concealed desire; ”but yours is not the hand to give me any, I trow.”

”You are much mistook,” said the other. ”Here, catch!”

And suddenly threw a double handful into Marcia's lap.

Marcia brought her knees together by an irresistible instinct.

”Aha! you are caught, my lad,” cried she of the nuts. ”'Tis a man; or a boy. A woman still parteth her knees to catch the nuts the surer in her ap.r.o.n; but a man closeth his for fear they shall fall between his hose.

Confess now, didst never wear fardingale ere to-day.”

”Give me another handful, sweetheart, and I'll tell thee.”

”There! I said he was too handsome for a woman.”

”Ser Gerard, they have found me out,” observed the Epicaene, calmly cracking an almond.

The libertines vowed it was impossible, and all glared at the G.o.ddess like a battery. But Vanucci struck in, and reminded the gaping gazers of a recent controversy, in which they had, with an unanimity not often found among dunces, laughed Gerard and him to scorn, for saying that men were as beautiful as women in a true artist's eye.

”Where are ye now? This is my boy Andrea. And you have all been down on your knees to him. Ha! ha! But oh, my little ladies, when he lectured you and flung your stibium, your cerussa, and your purpurissum back in your faces, 'tis then I was like to burst; a grinds my colours. Ha! ha!

he! he! he! ho!”

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