RODERICK HUDSON
Roderick, as one of the newer lights of the Roman art-world, had not hitherto been subject to incursions from inquisitive tourists and, having no regular reception-day, was not versed in the usual arts of hospitality. He said nothing, and Rowland, looking at him, saw that he was staring amazedly at the younger woman and was apparently unconscious of everything else. "By Jove!" he cried precipitately, "it 's that goddess of the Villa Ludovisi!" Rowland, in some confusion, did the honours as he could, but the little old gentleman begged him with the most obsequious of smiles to give himself no trouble. "I 've been in a many studio, tanti, tanti!" he said with his finger in the air and a strong Italian accent.
"We 're going about everywhere," said his companion. "I 'm passionately fond of art!"
Rowland smiled sympathetically and let them turn to Roderick's statue. He glanced again at the young sculptor, to invite him to bestir himself, but Roderick was still nothing but eyes for the beautiful young mistress of the poodle, who by this time had looked up and was gazing straight at him. There was no thing bold in her look; it expressed but the reserve of systematic indifference. Her beauty was extraordinary; it grew and grew as the young man regarded her. In such a face the maidenly custom of averted eyes and ready blushes would have seemed an anomaly; nature had produced it for man's delight and meant that it should surrender itself freely and coldly to admiration. It was not immediately apparent, however, that the young lady found answering entertainment in the physiognomy of her host;
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