Chapter 11 - Page 2

sympathetically.

"Well, it will depend upon the views--upon the attitude--of my family,"
Singleton replied. "Oh, I think I shall get on; I think it can be done.
If I find it can be done, I shall really be quite proud of it; as an
artist of course I mean, you know. Do you know I have some nine hundred
sketches? I shall live in my portfolio. And so long as one is not in
Rome, pray what does it matter where one is? But how I shall envy all
you Romans--you and Mr. Gloriani, and Mr. Hudson, especially!"

"Don't envy Hudson; he has nothing to envy."

Singleton grinned at what he considered a harmless jest. "Yes, he 's
going to be the great man of our time! And I say, Mr. Mallet, is n't it
a mighty comfort that it 's we who have turned him out?"

"Between ourselves," said Rowland, "he has disappointed me."

Singleton stared, open-mouthed. "Dear me, what did you expect?"

"Truly," said Rowland to himself, "what did I expect?"

"I confess," cried Singleton, "I can't judge him rationally. He
fascinates me; he 's the sort of man one makes one's hero of."

"Strictly speaking, he is not a hero," said Rowland.

Singleton looked intensely grave, and, with almost tearful eyes, "Is
there anything amiss--anything out of the way, about him?" he timidly
asked. Then, as Rowland hesitated to reply, he quickly added, "Please,
if there is, don't tell me! I want to know no evil of him, and I think
I should hardly believe it. In my memories of this Roman artist-life,
he will be the central figure. He will stand there in radiant relief, as
beautiful and unspotted as one of his own statues!"

"Amen!" said Rowland, gravely. He remembered afresh that the sea is
inhabited by big fishes and little, and that the latter often find their
way down the throats of the former. Singleton was going to spend the
afternoon in taking last looks at certain other places, and Rowland
offered to join him on his sentimental circuit. But as they were
preparing to leave the church, he heard himself suddenly addressed from
behind. Turning, he beheld a young woman whom he immediately recognized
as Madame Grandoni's maid. Her mistress was present, she said, and
begged to confer with him before he departed.

This summons obliged Rowland to separate from Singleton, to whom he bade
farewell. He followed the messenger, and presently found Madame Grandoni
occupying a liberal area on the steps of the tribune, behind the great
altar, where, spreading a shawl on the polished red marble, she had
comfortably seated herself. He expected that she had something especial
to impart, and she lost no