trembled and coloured with anxiety, that he should make a favourable impression.
The door flew open, and Bournonville first appeared, walking backwards, swinging to and fro the cassolette containing the perfumed wood, and followed by the Cardinal, leaning on his niece's arm.
Madame de Mercœur advanced, and, extending both hands to Guido, addressed him with the utmost kindness. "I shall soon," said she, smiling, "be ashamed to confess what very old friends we are;" then, leading the strangers to the Cardinal, presented them to him, adding, "their name will be familiar to you, for the fresco in your oratory once belonged to the Carraras."
Each dropped on a knee before him, while Mazarin looked at them for a moment in silence, evidently struck by their great and peculiar beauty. "You might know them for Romans," he observed, "all the world over; but rise, my children, and the blessing of the saints be upon you!" His eye now rested, as the painter intended it should, on his own likeness: "Holy Madonna! but, Monsieur Bournonville, I owe you some gratitude; pray how many years have you taken off?"
Before Bournonville could give utterance to the flattering assurances that rose in their tens
