t.i.tian smiled back. "I forget that you are of the craft. You have too much of the grand air, Zarato, to belong to us."

"I am indebted to you!" said the young man politely. He lifted his hand with a courtly gesture, half mocking and half sincere. It dropped easily to the console beside him.

With rapid touches t.i.tian sketched it as it lay. His face glowed with satisfaction, and he worked with eager haste. "Good!--Good!" he murmured under his breath. "It will be great. You will see.... You will see." He hummed softly to himself, his glance flashing up and down the tall figure before him, inserting a touch here and a line there, with swift decision.

The warm air of the studio was very quiet. Voices drifted up from the Grand Ca.n.a.l, and now and then the sound of bells.

The young man's eyes looked dreamily before him. He had forgotten the studio and its occupant. He might have been listening to pleasant words--to the sound of a voice.

"There!" t.i.tian dropped the brush and stepped back. "We have done for to-day." He surveyed the canvas critically.

The young man stepped to his side. He looked earnestly at the daubs and lines of paint that streaked it. A smile crept over his dark face. "You paint like no other," he said quietly.

t.i.tian nodded. "Like no other," he repeated the words with satisfaction.

"They will not call it like Palma, this time--nor like Giorgione, nor Signor Somebody Else." He spoke with mild irritation. His eyes travelled over the lines of glowing canvas that covered the walls.

The young man's glance followed them. "No," he a.s.sented, "you have outstepped them all.... You used them but to climb on." He moved toward a canvas across the room.

"But this--" he laid his hand lightly on the frame--"this was after Palma?" He turned his eyes with a look of inquiry.

t.i.tian nodded curtly.

"It was the model--partly," he said half grudgingly.

"I know--Violante." Zarato spoke the name softly. He hesitated a moment.

"Would she pose for any one--for me, do you think?"

t.i.tian laughed harshly. "Better not, my boy--Better not! When she gets into a brush, it is a lost brush, Zarato--bewitched forever! Look there--and there--and there!" His rapid hand flashed at the canvases.

The young man's eyes followed the gesture. "The result is not so bad,"

he said gravely.

t.i.tian laughed back. "Not so bad!..." He studied them a minute. "You've no idea how I had to fight to keep her out--And, oh, that hair!" He groaned thoughtfully, looking at the canvases--"Palma's worse!" he chuckled.

The young man started. A thought crossed his face and he looked up. "And Giorgione?" he asked doubtingly.

t.i.tian shook his head grimly. "He married her."

The young man moved a little away. He picked up a small book and mechanically turned the leaves.

The older man eyed him keenly.

"Don't mind me, Zarato." He said it kindly, and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I have no right to say anything against her--except that she's a somewhat fickle woman," he added dryly.

The young man's eyes were fixed on the page before him. He held it out, pointing to a name scrawled on the margin.

t.i.tian took it in his hands, holding it gently, and turning it so that the light fell on the rich binding. "A treasure!" he said enthusiastically.

The young man nodded. "An Aldine--I saw that. What does the marking mean?" He asked the question almost rudely.

His companion turned the leaves. "It's a baccha.n.a.l for the Duke," he said slowly.... "I've been looking up Violante's pose.--Here it is." He read the lines in a musical voice.

A heavy frown had come between the handsome eyes watching him. "You'll not paint her like that?"

"I rather think I shall," responded t.i.tian slowly. "She has promised."

"And Giorgione?"

"Giorgione lets her do as she likes. He trusts her--as I do." He laid his hand again on the shoulder near him. "I tell you, man, you're wrong.

Believe in her and--leave her," he said significantly.

The shoulder shrugged itself slightly away. The young man picked up his hat from the table near by. He raised it courteously before he dropped it with a little laugh on the dark curls.

"I go to an appointment," he said.

III

A face looked over the balcony railing as the gondola halted at the foot of the steps. It smiled with a look of satisfaction, and the owner, reaching for a rose at her belt, dropped it with a quick touch over the balcony edge.

It fell at the feet of the young man stepping from the gondola, and caused him to bend with a deep flush. It touched his lips lightly as he raised himself and lifted his velvet cap to the face above.

She smiled mockingly. "You are late," she said--"two minutes late!"

"I come!" he replied, springing up the steps. In another minute he was beside her, smiling and flushed, looking down at her with deep, intent gaze.

She made a place for him on the divan. "Sit down," she said.

He seated himself humbly, his eyes studying hers.

She smiled lazily and unfurled her fan, covering her face except the eyes. They regarded him over the fringe of feathers.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"With t.i.tian."

"Giorgione wanted you. He did scold so--!" She laughed musically.

Zarato nodded. "I go to him to-morrow."

"Has t.i.tian finished?"

"For the present--He will lay it away."

"I know," she laughed, "--to mellow!... How did you like it?"