At this point Sir Stopleigh interposed respectably. "A--really," said he, "we must hope that this young lady, whoever she was, was not the Duke's wife. You will excuse me, my dear Madeline, but that is certainly what I understood you to suppose." His daughter interjected disreputably. "Oh, bother! Never mind Pupsey--go on." Then Mr. Pelly said apologetically, "It _was_ the Middle Ages, you know. Let's see, where were we? Oh--'hold me by my own'"--and went on reading: "'... And her dear voice is in my ears, and if I die now, at least I shall have lived. So said I to myself, as Attilio worked hard with a file to free my limbs. And they moisten bread with wine, and put it in my mouth. For, indeed, what I say is true, and the last of my strength went in sending that little _ambusciata_ to the poor Uguccio. Still, revival is in me, though it comes slowly. But I can only utter the one word "Love," and can only move to kiss the hand I hold and the pale face that comes to mine. Then I hear the beloved voice I had never hoped to hear again: "'"Can we trust that wicked old Marta, Attilio? If she betrays us we are lost." "'"_Che che_! She owes him an old grudge, and will pay him--now or later! And a thousand crowns, _per Bacco_! No, no--trust her!" "'"But I hear a footstep coming down his stair; if it is she, it is to say he is waked. If it is he, she has betrayed us." "'"Neither the one nor the other, I wager. See, the Signore is getting the blood in his face. He will eat soon, and all will be well." "'Then I feel in my neck a dog's nose, that smells, and the touch of his tongue; that licks. But what he would say we know not, though he tries to speak, too, dog wise. I know him for the _cagnoletto_ of la Marta, the old woman--for had I not seen him in the days when I painted my Maddalena in the _Stanza delle Quattro Corone_?...'" Madeline interrupted again. "_Now_ I hope you're convinced. He was sent for to paint the Duchess. And he painted Maddalena. Of course, Maddalena _was_ the Duchess!" "The Herr Professor's theory is that he painted two ladies, one of whom was Maddalena, some beautiful attendant with whom he was in love, the other the Duchess. He may have, you know!" "He may have done anything, Uncle Christopher! But he didn't. What's the use of being so roundabout? Besides, if she wasn't the Duchess, how did she know the Duke was asleep?" Her parents may have been anxious to avoid critical discussions, and suggested that perhaps the reading had better go on. It is just possible, also, that Mr. Pelly, who was a typical little old bachelor, saw rocks ahead in a discussion of the Duke and Duchess's domestic arrangements, for he introduced a point of which the Baronet and his Lady did not see the importance. "Stop a bit, Miss Mad!" said the old gentleman, laying down the manuscript. "I've a bone to pick with you."